The Cellar
by LovingOnce
Summary: The air is damp. A chilling breeze nips at her skin, exciting the light hairs on the nape of her neck; it hurts- sore from being slumped over for an indiscernible amount of time since she had been fading in and out of consciousness. She can feel her back ache as she straightens her spine, whimpering in mild pain at the injustice of such a position.
1. Taken

Timeline: 2x10 The Cricket Game; Regina accused of killing Archie. Please ignore everything that happens after the dreamcatcher scene, I go AU after that and veer very far from the original storyline.

I do not own any of the characters on Once Upon A Time.

TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic Violence/Torture/Rape. Please, if you are uncomfortable with any of this, do not read this fic.

Eventual SWAN QUEEN.

I appreciate anyone who reads this! Reviews/advice is greatly appreciated. This is my first fanfic, so I'm excited to hear what you think. My tumblr is LovingOnce. :)

Thank you in advance!

...

The Cellar

...

Ch. 1- Taken

...

"May I help you?" Regina breathes dryly as she pushes open the front door to her home. It is 10pm and the sky has left no sign that there was once a sun lighting the streets of Storybrooke, Maine. It had descended earlier than expected in the evening, leaving the night air a crisp cool that in this moment kisses her skin as she steps onto the concrete of her front porch. She had just finished dinner and heard a pounding radiating through the walls of her home. At first, she ignored it, feeling as though whoever would truly want to speak with her would either call her- or already be screaming at the door threatening to break it down, as seemed the custom of her witless enemies, but when the bell rang in a relentless ding, she sighed in defeat and made her way to the entrance.

"Good evening. I presume you are the Mayor, Regina Mills?"

She stares idly at a tall man in the shadows; foreign as he glares at her with light eyes. He sports a wide smile and gives her a once over from head to toe before resting his site at her mouth.

"Former," she firmly states, unamused, pulling at the hem of her black suit jacket, "if you need to speak with a person from Town Hall, I suggest you wait until morning and find someone that is willing to help you," she spits, turning on her heels, leaving the man in awe at her forceful nature. She almost purses her lips at the disgust she feels in thinking that someone else has been running the town she built. She had spent so much time producing the perfect quaint little settlement; her office in the Town Hall building being the very first thing she created. Her pride at such an office came from having chosen wallpaper that was reminiscent of her enchanted forest. One in which no one but her would have understood the correlation.

She feels the rustle of the wind blowing at her hair as she makes her way into her home. A sigh escapes her lips in annoyance for being disturbed at such an hour. She grabs the frame of the door with her left hand to shut it behind her, but before she can, she feels a tight grip on her upper arm that forces her to let go of the door and turn around in haste.

"Ma'am, I suggest you let me finish. I have some important information regarding one of your residents…an Emma Swan. I was told you should be the one to see."

"Excuse me," she says tugging at her arm until he releases his grasp, "Who are you?"

"Who I am is of no concern, but what I know may be of more interest to you and this town you created."

'_This town you created_'- The words echo in her mind. It seems a distant cry from what the townspeople would think. She manages a smile before making way for the stranger. Her head tilts in an attempt to look humble, "Please, do come in." Her eyes are trained on him as he whisks past her. She looks up into the sky, noticing that not one sound is coming from her sleepy town. She sighs and closes her eyes for a brief moment, hoping that this man will tell her something so awful about Emma Swan that it will save her from having to share her only son. Taking in a deep breath, she turns and makes her way into her home, closing the door behind her with a soft push.

...

...

"Regina! Regina, open up!"

The sun beams high in the early August morning as Emma, Snow and Charming stand outside of Regina's front door. The hammering only grows louder when Charming takes the lead, "Regina! We know what you did! You can't hide anymore!" He slams his fist onto the wooden door, watching it jump back at him with every hit.

"Maybe she isn't home," Mary Margaret states calmly.

"The hell she isn't. She knows what she did to Archie and has been laughing at us this entire time." Emma stands back before starting, "Move. This door is coming down." She makes her way to the edge of the steps of Regina's front porch, trying to give herself some momentum. She starts for the door and it is her shoulder that makes first contact. It doesn't budge. Her face contorts in pain. "Holy shit, " she breathes out slowly, bending at her waist.

"Here, let me," Charming says, "I've done this before. You have to use your feet to kick this door down or else you are just going to hurt yourself."

"Thanks. You could have warned me earlier... like when I said I was going to run at the door."

"Sorry," he laughs.

In a beat, the door has swung open and the three of them barge into the house. Emma leads the way, Mary Margaret and David in tow. Once up the few steps that lead to the main foyer, Emma stops abruptly; the change in pace making Snow bump into her.

"Emma, what is it?"

Slowly, Emma moves aside, allowing Snow and Charming to see the destruction of Regina's dining room and home office. Tables have been turned, wood smashed and broken glass coats the tiles. Emma walks on, hearing the crunch under her shoes as she looks in disbelief.

"What the hell happened here?" Charming whispers, furrowing his brows.

"Regina!" Emma screams, looking around.

"Emma, don't."

"Yea, knowing Regina, she is probably still angry at whatever or whoever made her do this, so lets be careful," Charming murmurs.

They make their way up the stairs to the second floor of Regina's home. Room to room they search, quickly sweeping through the large house. Emma notices how preserved the rooms look and scoffs. "Seriously, this is kind of creepy how she has all these rooms and it's just her and Henry. Does she really need all of this space? The four of us squeeze into an infinitesimally smaller apartment," Emma whispers looking around.

Snow smiles at Emma, endearingly. "If Regina does anything, it has to pack a punch or she doesn't bother..." Her voice trails off as they enter Regina's main bedroom.

"It doesn't look like she is here or like she even slept here at all last night. You know, I'm really tired of this happening with her," Emma states, raising her voice to a normal decibel as she sits on the bed in defeat.

Snow looks around; her sight resting at a picture of Henry on Regina's nightstand. She lingers on the photo, thinking that perhaps that could have been her at one time, had Regina not lost Daniel. Perhaps, the Queen would have harbored the same warm emotions for Snow and they could have even been friends.

"Everything is so...clean," Emma says rolling her eyes in a sigh.

Snow smiles, knowing too well who Regina is now. As a child, she would watch Regina reprimand the help when her possessions were moved even an inch in the wrong direction. Regina liked her conformity, as it seemed to be the only constant in her life, so Snow knew that her bedroom in this land would be no different.

"She is very particular. Why don't we go back down?"

They leave the room and make their way down the hall to the steps. Once near the bottom, Emma pauses briefly, using her hand to steady herself as she hangs over the railing. The home is even equipped with a chandelier, which to Emma's displeasure is just a way of showing status. She shakes her head in contempt as her sight lands on something on the wall behind the front door. She squints her eyes toward it.

"You ok?" Snow asks, confused at the look on Emma's face.

"Look... by the door. There. Do you see that?" She stares for a moment, pointing.

Emma propels herself down the steps, reaching the door with a loud exhale. She wraps her finger around the knob and, with a slight pull, allows the door to close itself.

"Oh my god." Snow gasps, covering her mouth.

There, by the entrance, is a handprint smeared down the wall; underneath it a simple sentence, written in blood: '_The Queen is Dead._'

...

...

The air is damp. A chilling breeze nips at her skin, exciting the light hairs on the nape of her neck; it hurts- sore from being slumped over for an indiscernible amount of time since she had been fading in and out of consciousness. She can feel her back ache as she straightens her spine, whimpering in mild pain at the injustice of such a position. Her eyelids skid on her cornea when she opens them slowly, forcing her to shut them tightly in an instant in order to will a tear out to lubricate the dryness that has been forced upon her in the cold. It seems almost comical, how easily she can tear. So many years of obligated emotions have taught her how to manipulate her body, so that she could obtain anything she desired.

Her breathing is heavy and she can now see the frozen air in her sharp exhale linger in front of her. The wall behind her is a wet concrete; it only helps her feel a small sense of relief when she pushes her body into it to awaken her senses.

Regina doesn't recognize where she is. Her mind is hazy with a jumbled recollection of what occurred prior to waking up on the ground. She scrunches her nose as the events come flooding back in jagged fragments and, as if the memories are stabbing her temple, she instinctively raises her hand to press her tingling fingers to her forehead.

**_Thump. _**

Startled, her eyes fly open.

_**"Ahhhhh," a small tortured voice whispers in what seems an exhale.**_

She gasps, looking down at her hands, realizing they are cuffed; tied to a heavy metal chain. She studies them, trying hard to piece together any image that can help her remember how it came to be.

Nothing. She exhales in frustration.

_**Rattle.**_

"Hello? Who's there!?" she asks loudly, trying to keep her composure.

The sound continues, louder this time; screeching against serrated concrete.

She stares into the far corners of the room, but darkness engulfs it, reminding her of how powerful shadows are; the same shadows she used to stalk many of her prey with. Regina knows the tactics of a captor. Her adulthood has been showered with so many memories of watching her victims suffer.

The sound stops suddenly and the room remains an eerie calm.

She can feel her heart beating. So many years as a queen has taught her to keep her beat steady; it is almost instinctual to keep calm during moments that demand intense vehemence. She takes a moment to survey the room.

Despite the darkness in the far corners to her right, the room is lit with a dull light that delivers a bluish gray hue. She reasons it is because the walls are colored as such; the light itself is a natural white. The room is barren to anything except her own body and the warmth it emits; the floor is hard as it is the same rugged concrete that makes up the walls. She studies her chains, noticing how they attach to the wall through an open hole that she suspects works like a spring, allowing her to walk a certain distance and coiling back upon her return. She raises her hand once again; a headache is beginning to take root in her.

Regina is especially calm, knowing that whoever has her captive will have to face her at some point to either demand something tangible from her or to kill her. Having those two scenarios in mind doesn't leave much to the imagination. She knows it takes time to build fear in a victim. She has had her fair share of tortured captives. Until now, anyone who has attempted to kidnap her has done so for one simple reason; one that is obvious to anyone of status and she suspects it is that reason that has her locked in this room. The sigh that leaves her is heavy. She stares straight ahead to the only entrance the room has: a thick metal door with a small latch window.

_**"Reginnnaaaa," a voice reverberates in the darkness against the moist, coarse concrete.**_

She flinches, darting her eyes around the room, realizing that the voice is coming from the only corner she cannot discern with her tired eyes.

"Whoever you are, I am in no mood to play your games," Regina says dryly. She doesn't bother to ask how it knows her name. Everyone knows her name. She motions her hand to smoke away her chains with magic, but to her surprise nothing happens. She clicks her tongue, irritated, as she looks at her hands.

Impulsively she freezes, opening her eyes wide as she peers up toward the door. The circumstances have suddenly become almost palpable and her heart begins to pace a bit faster. Her breaths come in sharp as she heaves her arms forward in a feeble attempt to release the chains from the wall. She knows now that she cannot simply escape. Whoever has her in this dark abandoned room knows how to manipulate the only thing she has to offer- power. Every notion she had of a negotiation has changed.

There is only one purpose for her in this room and that is to die.


	2. Prisoner

...

The Cellar

...

Emma sits, leaning against the island in the kitchen; eyes trained on the wood countertop. Her elbows prop her up as her hands aimlessly pass from her hair to her face in frustration. The front door opens with a loud thud and she watches Henry almost skip into the apartment she shares with Mary Margaret and David.

"Hi, Emma!"

"Hey, kid. How was school?" she says with a weak smile.

"It was ok. I was talking to my friend about how we should all get together and learn to fight with swords in case we all end up..."

Emma watches Henry drop his book-bag to the ground and continue with a story full of adventure, but can hardly listen to anything he is saying. She feels her leg bounce up and down as she waits for him to finish. After what seems like an hour, her anxiety builds up and she suddenly interrupts him, "Henry, when was the last time you saw Regina?"

"Um..." he furrows his eyebrows, "...at the diner for your welcome home party. Why? Is something wrong?"

"Uh, no, no. I was just thinking about some stuff. Sorry I interrupted you. Keep going; That's a really interesting conversation," she says, but can't seem to focus long enough to catch any of it the second time around. She decides to just shake her head in agreement when he seems really excited.

Emma had already told Henry about Archie dying. Being so young, there was no way to console him with such horrible news, especially that she is still new to the whole mothering thing. She couldn't add to it by saying that the person who raised him for eleven years was also dead and her body missing. That was too much for a young kid to take in. She had to wait at least a few days before bringing up Regina to him. In the meantime, Ruby had been asked to keep sniffing out a trail if anything ever came up.

For the last couple of days, Emma had been more concerned with Henry getting back to some sort of normalcy. The case was a dead end anyway, she had thought. She didn't know where to start and had already tried asking around to figure out who the last person was to see Regina. Henry, oblivious to any crime scene involving his mother, had just started to come around. Only now did Emma feel the guilt hit her.

Did she really do all that she could for Regina? Up until Archie's death, Regina had been trying so hard to be a better person. Emma believed that all the former Evil Queen needed was a chance to show the town that she had changed. Her anger at Regina's betrayal in killing Archie had clouded her judgment and instead of trying to look for the brunette, she decided to wait it out, hoping someone would come to her with pertinent information.

But the truth was that if Regina was gone, it only meant that the she actually had nothing to do with Archie's death. Emma also knew for a fact that she would never willingly leave Henry to the Charming family; especially at the expense of her son believing she was dead. Whoever did that to her was the same person who strangled the poor doctor, Emma reasoned. Ruby must have been mistaken when she saw Regina enter Archie's office. Either way it didn't matter at this point. To finger her for Archie's death will only hurt Henry. It will be an easier blow to stick with saying the murderer was the same stranger all around. At least Henry can live with the idea that his mother was good at the end. That is something Emma, Mary Margaret and David had all agreed on earlier that morning and it is what's best for the boy.

"Emma?" Henry says, staring at her in confusion. "She isn't...coming for me, is she?"

"Oh. _Oh_, no! Listen, I was just wondering about something silly, but it's not even important. Don't worry."

Yet, she is worried because it has become important to her. After two days of doing nothing to find Regina, she can't discern if her guilt is coming from being a good person or from knowing that what she has been doing won't be good in the eyes of Henry if he ever finds out she stood idly by as Regina's murderer got away with it.

"Kid, I'm going to go out for a bit. Stay here. I'll be back soon. And...uh...do your homework. That's what parents say, right?" She says with a smile forming.

Henry smiles back, his eyes gleaming at the idea Emma is introducing. "Yea, don't worry. I'll be ok," he says walking up the stairs tugging his book-bag behind him before leaving her site completely.

Emma knows who she needs to talk to. It was no coincidence that Regina was gone the same morning that Archie was found. The only person who can have anything to do with either death is in Storybrooke and she isn't going to let him get away with staying quiet any longer. She pushes herself off the barstool and snatches her jacket from its hanger by the front door.

_I need answers and that's exactly what I'm gonna get,_ she thinks as the door slams shut behind her.

...

...

Regina tried hard to stop herself, but the clothes she was wearing could hardly contain the warmth in her body. She shivered until she fell asleep, hoping that someone would come to tell her why she was lying in a cold basement- in God knows what location. She only opens her eyes when she hears the latch, from the door across her, open. Immediately, she shoots up from the ground to stand. She peers down quickly, noticing how haggardly she looks. Her red silk button-down shirt has come undone at her sides and is no longer tucked neatly into her black pants. Her hands move quickly to straighten her wardrobe, tightening the thin belt around her pant waist.

"I see you are up...and have managed to stay pristine."

She looks over to the same man who stood before her front door... in what seems like days. She realizes that she is unsure of how many times the sun has truly come up since her captivity.

"Even my prisoners were given beds when I had them in my dungeons," she says brushing imaginary dust from her hands, "I presume you wish to kill me? If not, my being here would serve no other purpose."

The man in the suit laughs, weaving his fingers into a tight grip in front of him, "You are quite perceptive, Queen."

"Mm. If I were my own prisoner, I would have at least had somewhere to sleep. How do you expect me to last in here, otherwise?" Her smile is almost seductive. She knows she has nothing else to barter.

The man in the suit smiles back, unlocking his fingers and stepping toward her. He looks down, careful not to dirty his shiny black shoes. She shifts legs; sitting for so long has caused them to go numb and only now is she starting to feel them tingle. Her eyes never leave him and she does not move as he approaches. He stops an inch from her, taking in her body, before looking into her eyes.

"I gave you a toilet, a sink, and toiletries," he says slowly, "Prisoners get a hole in the ground. You are a Queen and so you are getting a chance to clean yourself up every day. Would you like to exchange one of those for a bed?" His breath smooths past her face, mint and tobacco.

She sighs, unimpressed and unwavering. She had not noticed the lavatory in the far corner to her left. Still, she continues, coldly, "Why am I here?"

"You are meant to be here. It is your path and those around you have helped you get here."

"No riddles. Someone asked you for this. Who was it? I have come across many people in my time and _you_ are not one of them. If I am going to die, what does it matter?" She smirks. Her eyes are fixed into his. Even in this darkness, she can still see them shine emerald.

"_That_ I can not tell you. It's not up to me." He steps back, taking one final look at her before turning. His hand shoots up in a careless wave and purple smoke fills the room.

"Eat up and rest. Tomorrow will be a big day," he says walking out and shutting the metal door behind him.

Regina does not move. Her legs feel like someone is poking needles into them, but she knows that she must hold herself up a little longer to prove that she is not afraid. After a few moments, she lets out a sigh and bends to rub her aching calf. She lightly moans at the release of her sore muscle before straightening up and turning back to her spot on the ground.

She smiles when she looks down. The man in the suit conjured her a mattress and some food. _He is weak of will,_ she thinks, shaking her head. She sits on the small mattress, leaning her back against the wall. Silence engulfs the room and she remains seated for a few moments before deciding to lay on her side to relieve her aching body. She stays that way for more time than she can discern.

Then she hears it.

The metal in the darkness near her. Her breathing stops for a moment. She tries hard to listen, unsure of whether she needs to fear what hides in the shadows.

Metal screeches against the floor slowly at first. She almost cringes at the sound akin to nails on a chalkboard. The chains then screech louder and... _faster_. She can hear them move. Again and again...

...and then the sound is gone. Silence covers the air. She releases her breath slowly, before taking in air deeply.

**_Clank!_**

She jumps up in surprise. The chains screech and the sound of them snapping taut forces her to move farther from the dark corners and into the dim light. She can hear it clearly now. Feet. Padded against the concrete running toward her. The sound of the chains only quicken as she retreats slowly.

**_Taut. Screech. Taut. Screech. _**

Feet stomping toward her. Whatever is locked in there with her is being kept in the black of the room.

She suddenly feels weak and inhales sharply at a flash of memory. She remembers now. The last thing the man said to her before knocking her into the closed door of her home that night. Before she felt herself sinking into obscurity:

"If you allow hatred to enter your heart for too long, you can never truly see a great threat coming, because, to you, you are the greatest threat there is. Now you know who Emma Swan is. She will destroy your town and your son. He will live in a world with no one. It could have been different. Everything could have been different. But now...she has won because she became your consummate plague."

What he had said hit her harder than his magic did. Emma Swan is the reason she is here... has always been her _plague_. She knows that even now, sitting on a dirty mattress, in a damp cellar.

She curls up into herself, facing the darkness, hoping that whatever is there would come for her in her sleep. And before drifting off, before her eyes shut to take her into another world, she hears it again. This time a long whisper.

Her name echoes; the hellish voice almost sizzling in the cold air as it drips into her subconscious.


	3. Lost

...

The Cellar

...

Emma is smart...street-smart. It is this part of her that makes it easy to see the manipulations of others, more so than anyone in this town could ever see; her _special power_ she likes to call it. Here almost everyone is _so_ good- a completely foreign quality to her. In her unfortunate past, she had seen many terrible things; so many, in fact, that they haunt her even now as she walks down the streets of Storybrooke; her memories a vague reminder of how guarded she is to the small town that surrounds her. It is this past that has shaped her into the woman she is at this moment: **aware**.

So many of the people here are completely oblivious to what has happened a few blocks away in the former mayors home, yet of the few that do know, it is Emma who finds herself tortured by the prospect of what happened to the Queen; the others have decided to focus on investigating Archie's death. To her, Regina is and always was _just_ Regina; something she had even tried to explain to her parents not very long ago- making it all the more difficult for Emma to solidify any title of **evil** in the woman that raised their son. Now, after all this time, after all the fighting Regina has done for Henry's love, how can Emma tell him what happened to his adoptive mother, if she herself doesn't truly know? She needs a lead; at least _something_ to bring back to Henry before it's too late.

Her thoughts haze as she finds herself standing in front of the shop. The cool autumn breeze whips her hair past her eyes as she grabs the door handle and, taking a deep breath in anticipation, she turns it.

The bell chimes above her head when she walks in to the dim lighted antique store. She's been here many times before, but never for Regina. She knows that Rumpelstiltskin is usually the mastermind of anything that goes wrong in this town- the puppet-master, if you will. If anything happens in Storybrooke, her family and friends have warned her that it's usually him dealing the cards. She has also experienced being a piece in his puzzles, so she knows it for herself all too well.

Emma walks quickly, shuffling her way through the dusty shop, swatting away dreamcatchers and glass mobiles hanging in her path to the back room.

"Gold!" she screams, not caring if anyone other than him is in the store.

She pauses briefly when hears the distinct tap of a cane. Mr. Gold limps into the main showroom in his tailored Armani suit; a silk navy tie accenting the handkerchief that peeks from his breast pocket.

"Ms. Swan, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Tell me what you did," she says matter-of-factly.

"What I did? Whatever do you mean?"

"Tell me what happened to Regina. I'm sure you know. I assume you had something to do with it, being the Dark One and all. You have a hand in most things around here."

"That I do, dearie," he says with a playful smile.

"So? Where is she?"

"I am not able to tell you where she is. I do not know. Could I interest you in something here in the store that perhaps you might need?" He sweeps his open palm before them.

"What I need from you is the truth. You owe me that."

"Actually, dearie, you owe _me_. I have not forgotten about our deal."

"Right. Well? What do you want? For information on Regina."

"Poor Henry. He must be suffering so much knowing that his mother's gone; how she reverted back to dark magic... and poor Dr. Hopper..." he almost mockingly sings, feigning pity.

Emma chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief. "_Don't_. You aren't innocent here. Everyone is just a pawn for you. _Especially _me. Regina did exactly what you wanted. She cursed everyone, separated me from my parents- all so you could have this curse. And for what? Everything has been exactly the way you wanted it. What makes this any different?"

Rumple just stares at Emma, his emotion cold and distant.

Emma sighs, frustration creasing her brow. She attempts to soften, "Look, Henry doesn't know and I don't want him to. Regina didn't do anything and you know it just as well as I do."

"Henry _doesn't know_? It has been a few days now, hasn't it? Tsk tsk, Ms...White is it now? How could you possibly have kept this from him for this long?" he laughs, his eyes gleaming in surprise, "The Savior. How does that feel? Coming from such goodness. Your parents would be so disappointed..."

"It's Swan," Emma spits, cutting him off, "Let's make a new deal."

"Oh, dear, now that you know who I am, you still want to strike a deal with me? And here I thought you were a Charming." He pauses briefly in thought, "Well, what I want is simple: your word- as I have asked of your father. Whatever the outcome of this mess, I will not be held culpable of anything."

"Deal."

He smiles, picking up an old brass oil lamp and polishing it, before speaking again, "Someone came to my shop about a week ago, made a deal with me...for a price, of course."

"Of course," she repeats, rolling her eyes slightly.

"I can't tell you where she is, because I do not know and I can't tell you who has her, because I do not know. What I can tell you is that someone wanted her gone and they wished her right out of here. Magic can do many things, my dear, but even I don't know everything."

"How can I find her? Where do I start?"

"You're the sheriff, aren't you? Do what sheriffs do. You are the law here, Miss Swan. You are judge and jury; police officer and detective. So, go on..." He waves his hand at her as if to shoo her away, "...detect."

"That's it? That's supposed to help me? If you know who wanted her gone, tell me, so I have somewhere to start. That's a proper deal! You aren't providing me with anything useful!"

"You asked me for information on Regina and I gave it to you," he says not bothering to look up.

"Oh, come on! I didn't mean _any_ information on her! You know what I came here for! I want to know who came to you and where Regina is at this very moment!"

"I traffic in words, dearie. Maybe you should have been clearer with your questions."

Emma stomps hard on the creaky wooden floor like a frustrated child. She paces in front of the older man, unsure of what to say or how to plead for more information on Regina.

"Please," she says, suddenly realizing that the Dark One, having lived for so very long, must have loved at some point; someone he lost, even. She inhales deeply and continues with a softer tone, "Henry lost a mother. Losing a person you love is one of the most horrible things. I just want to know if I should be telling my son that his other mom is really dead or... or if I can give him some glimmer of hope."

Gold stares at Emma, then shuts his eyes briefly in utter and complete annoyance. "I do have my own codes. When someone makes a deal with me, it is only with me. You should ask yourself one simple question: Who would want Regina gone?"

"Everyone! Everyone wants her dead!"

He clicks his tongue at her outburst. "You don't need me to tell you who took her. You just need to do your job. That will give you enough of a lead. As of yet, I haven't seen you so enthused in her disappearance. Why now? Hm?" He reaches under a glass casing and pulls out a piece of paper and a gold pen. "You know, Sherriff," he says scribbling on the ripped parchment, "you may never find Regina. What you need to do is try to make yourself believe that what has happened is for the best. Anyone in this town can tell you how much better the days are without her."

"It may be better with her gone for everyone in town, but it's not better for my son. He loves her. He believes in her. Why should Henry have to suffer when she was trying to be better for him? I have to find her. I have to at least find her body to prove to Henry that I'm not just another person for him to mistrust. I don't want him to think that I did nothing for her," she says, guilt already staining her voice.

"For her?" Gold asks with interest.

"For him ...for him," she repeats, nodding to herself.

He stares at her for a moment, curious, then brings his attention back to the paper he is writing on. "That boy has much to learn. She may have loved him and she may have tried her best but, evil is evil. And Regina...well... any good in him was all that she could give him and even that would have been corrupted because she is, after all, an Evil Queen. She would never have changed, not even for him."

Emma closes in on Rumple, her sensor flashing within her. "You were here all this time, Gold. You saw her every day. She had 11 years with him. He's a good kid and it didn't come from me or from the love of my _magical_ family. Some of it has to have come from her. And Henry knows that. Look, I know Regina and I know she does bad things, but she did one thing that was right and that was Henry. I can't hate her, because even though he was lonely, he had **love**. I never got to experience any of that and my parents gave me away _because_ they love me."

"Alright," he says lifting his hands in defeat, "I provided them with a simple book. There are many spells in there to remove her from this world. By the look of her home, I would say this person summoned one of two entities: The Chemical Savage or The illusionist. I can't be sure."

"You were at her home? Never mind. Of course you were...The Chemical Savage?"

"A man I do not know- I have never met. In fact, it could very well be a woman. What happened to Regina after that is not up to me. Here," he says handing her the paper he had scribbled on, "these are the symbols that cover the book. Recognize the symbols, catch the person who did this to the Queen. That is all I can tell you. Everything from here is up to you. If you find that book, you find Regina."

Emma stares at him in surprise. She cannot believe how such a man can exist. It is so easy for him to barter another persons life for personal gain. He is the Dark One, after all. What did she expect from him? He's done what he is meant to do.

She does not waste time on pleasantries, rather, turns and walks out of the small shop; the change in lighting making her squint as the suns beams through Storybrooke in the Fall afternoon. She walks back the way she came, peering down at her feet, her hands tucked away in her jacket pockets.

So many people want Regina dead that there's absolutely no way she could knock down every single door looking for the small-framed brunette. She shakes her head. She needs help. What will she tell Henry? What could she possibly tell him that won't make him hate her forever?

"Oh!" She cries out when someone crashes into her. Her face instantly slams against the other persons forehead. She looks down to see Mary Margaret staring at her with pity. Emma's hand instinctively raises to cover the dorsum of her nose when a pain shoots up to her root.

"I'm so sorry, Emma! I didn't see you. Are you okay?"

"Actually..."

"Did I hurt you? I'm sor..."

"No, no, I'm fine... it's ..." she hesitates, "It's Regina. She might not be dead. I don't think she killed Archie. Look, I know you have your history with her, but all I can think about is Henry. The kid thinks she's going to come back and _get_ him. I don't know how to tell him that she's gone." She stops for a moment, thinking aloud, "Oh my God, I'm basically on repeat now with everyone I talk to," she sighs into her hand.

"Im sorry, Emma. By now surely you have been told this: How do you know she didn't do anything wrong? If it wasn't Regina, then it was Gold? He has nothing to gain from killing Archie. Archie was helping Regina and Ruby saw her go into his office. Everything points to her, Emma. Everything always points to Regina. Don't you see? We could have had a life together. Everyone here could've had a life, if not for her," she says, anger boiling. "Henry was lonely and depressed before you got here. You only made his life better. Regina never could truly love him the way he needed it."

"I know that you want to believe that, but you don't think it's even a little bit odd that Archie died the same morning that we found her house completely destroyed? Come on, Mary Margaret. She would saw her own arm off before ever leaving Henry alone with us. Her entire existence depends on her son. The only reason she was trying to be good was because of him. Why would she throw it all away after all that work she was doing?"

"Emma, even you believed that she did it not too long ago. There's no saving someone like Regina. You are my daughter and because of that you want to give her these chances, but I've already learned that lesson and you don't need to go through it like I did."

"Listen, your life experiences are completely different from mine. I know that's hard to hear and I'm sorry. I don't know anything about fairytale land or you being Snow White. I mean... I experienced your land... I experienced what it was like to fight magic, dark magic, but I can't possibly understand what it was like to to be you or David or Regina or anyone in this town. I only know what it's like to be me. And I've got to do what's best for Henry. I may not like Regina, but if she did something wrong, then she deserves a trial like everyone else. She also deserves for us to find her. That's what good guys do, right?"

Snow looks at her daughter, a woman who is innately good and constantly reminding Snow of how naive and steadfast she is in her beliefs in morality- inherent, it seems, because even now that she pleads for her daughter to give up this search for Regina, Snow can't help but feel like Emma is right and that her own anger towards the former Queen still doesn't trump the lasting love she has had for the woman that once saved her life.

The pixie-haired brunette scrunches her nose, her mind conflicting with her heart. "Ok," she says shaking her head, because she already lost count how many times she has found herself pitying Regina for the woman she once was, "We should go to Rumplstiltskin. He would know what happened to Regina."

Emma looks at her triumphantly, "Already did. He said someone made a deal to get rid of her."

"And he just told you that? Out of the goodness of his heart?"

Emma stays quiet. A weak smile forming as she shrugs her shoulders.

"Emma! What deal did you make?!"

"Nothing bad, I swear! I promised that we wouldn't hold him responsible for Regina's disappearance. That's all. He told me he made a deal with someone. He wouldn't say who, but he gave them a book. It was used to summon some sort of _being _that kidnapped Regina out of Storybrooke, he said. Like, into another _world_."

Snow shakes her head in concern, "Then the only other person in this town that can help us is the Blue Fairy. If Regina was taken by...by a spell, then we shouldn't waste any more time here. We have to go see Blue now. She has been alive longer than any of us have, she might be able to tell us something."

"Right, I didn't even think of that." She pauses, a look of insecurity crossing her features. "It's hard, you know. Getting used to this...even being with you in your land... it's really...**hard**. I didn't know where to start...it's all so different now."

"Emma, you will _learn_. No one is expecting you to be our savior forever. I hope you know that."

"I know," she replies, with a look that says she actually doesn't know that for sure, but really does want to believe it.

Snow watches her daughters expression and a look of sadness splays across her own face. "We will find out what happened. I can assure you of that, at least."

Emma doesn't say anything. She isn't sure how to convey to Mary Margaret how important it is for Regina to be found now, but at this moment at least she has one more person than she had before on her side in this investigation, so instead she smiles wearily.

"We should go. You can head the way," she says to Mary Margaret, wondering if her mother truly still does care for Regina or if she is solely helping her because she is her daughter.

Both begin their walk to the unknown. The looks on their faces displaying the many different emotions that are haunting them: a mother who wants her daughter to understand her world, her past, and a daughter who wants her mother to understand the same in her; yet regarding Regina, both know the same thing-

whatever they discover, it won't be good.


	4. Possession

Notes: I do not own any of the characters on Once Upon A Time. This chapter start to get racy, so please, if you have a problem with any of the warnings below, do not continue. TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic Violence/Torture/Rape. Please, if you are uncomfortable with any of this, do not read this fic. Thank you to everyone who is reading this! I hope you like this chapter! Tumblr:LovingOnce

...

The Cellar

...

"Please." She can hear her own voice tremble deep in her throat. "Leave him alone! He's my son!" The world grows dark around her as she stares at the mans green eyes with resolve. He moves toward her, tugging something behind him. Her eyes focus on a small wooden box. Snow and Emma come clear into view near its rear.

"What have you done!?" Her shriek is so loud it scares her, "He was just a baby..." she sobs, her voice trailing. Mary Margaret moves closer, kneeling, so her nose is only centimeters away, "You thought we would take in that monstrosity you raised? You're right. Genetics mean nothing. Now he is where he belongs." Snow stares at her, a thin smile splayed across her face. The world is fading and she can't control it. Can't stop what has happened to her. She can feel her sanity slipping away.

In a panic, Regina jolts up. Her cry is loud and frantic in the desolate cellar. _A nightmare... only a nightmare_, she thinks. They have been worsening. Fear of not being able to protect Henry against the people she most despises only grows stronger the more that time passes. The only way to tell if a day has elapsed is by the food that magically appears for her at breakfast and dinner. The man in the suit had said that he would be back the next day since their last encounter, but that was days ago, she suspects.

Her breathing slows and she looks down, realizing her hand is gripping the material around her chest. "Get it together," she whispers to herself, letting go of the silk fabric.

The room is still dark, still damp, still cool, but her body has grown accustomed to the temperature. She no longer shivers uncontrollably and has managed to create a routine for herself now: brush teeth, breakfast, washcloth for bathing, rest, rest, rest until dinner. She has had a lot of time to think; a lot of time to formulate reasons for her capture. The last memory of the man in the suit she has is of the attack in the foyer.

She had allowed him to enter after he appeared on her doorstep that night, but before she could turn around to lead him into her study, he had already lanced at her with all of his weight. She wondered- with all of the power he possessed, he could have easily just whisked her to captivity. Yet, her memory of that night remains clear: he pinned her against the back door, dug his hand into her chest and gripped her heart. The only reason he let go at all was because she shot her palm straight up to his nose causing it to gush blood onto her hand. In the moment it took her to regain her breath, she had managed to press her hand against the wall, making her decent to the ground more graceful- and less painful a drop. She had never experienced a hand around her heart before. What a terrible, helpless feeling. She had little control, could hardly breathe and if that is truly what she has been doing all of these years to her enemies, then she knows now that she has already won.

The latch around her wrist is heavy and abrasive. She stares at it for a moment as if it can magically disappear from her will alone. Patience was never a strong quality of Regina's. Her hands shoot forward in a second attempt to break the chains from the wall, but she already knows that to try and snap it is a waste of what little energy she has.

"Damnit!" she screams, annoyed that the metal has torn through her flesh.

"You have made quite the home for yourself here. This is the first time in days that you have attempted to free yourself."

The man in the suit stands tall in the doorway. His shadow drapes over her with a cool chill. "Why?," he asks, "Why have you not tried to escape from this dungeon? It is only your loneliness that accompanies you and yet you have been subservient until now."

She stares up at him from the dirty mattress with fury. "You have yet to tell me what you want from me," she states, her eyes fixed on his.

"Oh, I don't want anything from you."

"Then why am I here?"

He scoffs, "Everyone in town thinks you are dead."

The words linger in the air between them. She can hear her heart thud in her ears. Henry thinks she is dead. **Dead**. If Henry thinks her dead, then no one will try to look for her. Why would they? In that town, it was only her son who could potentially love her and with that gone...

"I am going to make this very simple for you," he says breaking her concentration, "Someone summoned me to kill you. This path we are on now- there is no going back. You will die, but first you will suffer until your soul can not take any more of it. In the meantime, you will discover things about yourself that you never knew. Your life isn't meant to just end so abruptly, Queen. You will die and in your death, I will help you see life."

She scoffs. "This _someone_ who wants me dead, will you tell me who they are and why they wished this fate of me?"

"No. Because it doesn't matter who or why. You know what you've done. What matters is what you will do now that you are here."

She knows that she has wronged so many in her lifetime; too many to keep count. The list of those seeking revenge is endless. Unless she is directly told who it is, she will never be able to take her own vengeance on anyone if she ever manages to get back to Stroybrooke.

"I see. So, this imprisonment is just to have me suffer. Do they get to watch and bask in the glory of my demise?" She can feel her lip turn up. She isn't sure whether it is in amusement or astonishment at the very nature of her circumstance.

"Stand up."

"Excuse me?" Regina says, astounded and bewildered. She shakes her head. The movement is so subtle that she wonders if he catches her disapproval at his unorthodox means of torture.

**_Yessssssss, sssssstand_**

Her eyes dart toward the shadows.

"What is that?" She asks in a whisper. "That voice in the darkness. What is the purpose of this creature that I cannot see?"

The man lunges toward her, startling her from the intense focus she has for the unseen.

"Did you not hear me?!" he screams.

A gasp escapes her lips as her body is forced up from the mattress and slammed against the wall; the wind is knocked out of her with an _umph_. The chains that attach to her wrist-cuffs have recoiled to her side now and, as if by the mans will alone, slide up toward the ceiling, forcing her arms up and above hear head.

Regina does not fear many things, but having experienced her heart almost ripped from her chest has left her with a small unsettling in the pit of her stomach. It is something she does not want to experience again, so when he moves toward her, she flinches. She can tell that her involuntary reaction has satisfied him.

"This won't do," he says, waving his hand once again toward her. She falls, suddenly, and with a small thud her feet hit the ground beneath her. She grunts, quickly realizing that the mattress has been harshly pulled from under her.

Her brow arches in disdain. "I suppose we are going to get right to it then?" she asks, sarcasm undulating from her tongue.

He laughs, wanton. His strides toward her are small before she finds him nearly touching her lips with his. His hands rise, tracing her forearms slowly, then falling to rest just above her breasts. Regina can feel them, the hands large and warm, unraveling her shirt one button at a time, yet her eyes never leave his. Her face does not exhibit any emotion other than contempt.

"I used to have slaves like you..." he smiles, focusing on his task.

"Hm," she exhales, unsure of his motives. "You don't seem like a man who can maintain slaves well enough to have any that are useful," she almost mumbles in a half attempt to distract him. The _swoosh_ of her fabric opening resounds in the nearly dank room and with every button, he provides a new smile for the small victories, it seems. When she looks at him, his eyes get bigger, brighter, more seductive, even. It all taunts her in such slow motion that she decides instead to look away- something she has chosen to deliberately _never_ do in moments where she feels intimidated.

He pulls her shirt from her pants and frees the last button. His fingers slide up the fly front of her shirt before he opens the fabric and pushes it toward her back. Her lower jaw drops a little as she sucks in a breath. Her chest rising reveals a black lace bra in the rapidly flickering light.

"I have _you_ now, don't I?" he says, gleaming.

She almost forgets what they are talking about. _Slaves_, she reminds herself, blinking for a second longer to think of a verbal jab.

He stops her before she can say a word, "I have had many slaves in my time..."

"Your time?" she interrupts.

"Yes, and better trained I can assure you. They knew never to interrupt me."

"You forget who I am", she says, in fact.

"I know who you are... Do you?"

She looks confused for a millisecond, then laughs. "What is your name?" she asks, her confidence growing suddenly. Her voice sounds almost sure and amused.

He stays silent, smiling, staring, interested and doesn't once blink.

"Alright," she continues, annoyed, "I've had many people that have tried to kill me in my lifetime and do you know where they are now? _Dead_," she says with a smile. "You can do what you like for as long as you like, but in the end..."

"You can't kill someone that doesn't exist," he says, frankly. The smile on her face disappears as her eyebrows knit; her mouth closes after a few moments and then presses into a thin line.

"How?" she asks, hoping to keep him long enough away from her. Instead, he raises his oversized hand to her neck and pushes her deeper into the wall. She winces in pain and although she cannot speak, she can somehow still breathe well enough.

"I had a slave like you once," he repeats, beginning his story again. "She was a dark and tortured soul, but the mask she wore," he mimics a mask with his hand, "somehow proved to others that she was strong and collected, yet...I knew. I knew that she pretended because no one in her life, not one person, ever really loved her. And I," he chuckles, slowly releasing her neck from his tight grip, "I just ended up having to get rid of her."

"If your story's moral is to frighten me, you must not have been paying attention. I am not afraid of death."

"No, no," he laughs, shaking his head. "I didn't _kill_ her. I mean to say, I _have_ killed...tortured countless... to death. As you can see, it's what I do," he smiles, sweeping his hand, "But she didn't die. She wasn't that lucky, no. You see, it is my job, my life's purpose, to know who my victims are. To really understand how and why they exist. I can't truly do anything with you unless I know that." He pauses briefly and looks up. He clicks his tongue lightly in nostalgia. "Let me tell you a story about this young girl..."

Regina rolls her eyes in a sigh. "Save me the lesson. I will not fear you."

"She was a lovely girl. I suppose her mask was most likely the person she was at one point in her early youth. She was merry when she served, but I could hear her during the nights, crying and begging the gods to kill her in her sleep. You see, as a child, she was forced to endure endless nights watching first-hand as her father abused her mother and older sister. I do not say this lightly because I know what it is to maim someone, but that father of hers...he was a dangerous man. She, shockingly, was never hurt physically by him, yet she watched every night like a good little girl..." Regina shifts uncomfortably. "One fortunate day, she ends up in my command. You see, her sister, the older one, she cast a spell on her. Jealousy, I can only imagine. So, the girl slaved for me and no matter what I had her do, she always had a smile on her face. You see, she was trying to beat me at my own game."

"What did you do to her?"

The question is so innocent, so pained, that he shifts his body, moving closer, pressing it against her so that she is forced to lay her head against the stone wall to keep eye contact. Air is restricted, so she parts her lips in an attempt to gain access to it once again.

"What did I do? Well," he smirks, "I switched her body with that of her sisters, so that every day for the rest of her life she didn't have to be the one looking in from the outside." His laughter fills the room heartily.

"This is who I am," he finishes, "I guess we will see what you fear most."

Goosebumps rise on her skin now that it has no layer of protection against the cool air. Her heart begins to beat faster, yet she does not waver against his threats. He inches back for a moment so that his eyes can travel from her chest to her hips before they meet her eyes once again. She recognizes the look on his face; it is the same one he had in his eyes that first night outside of her front porch- eating her alive.

"You are very beautiful, Queen," he says carefully pushing at strands of hair that have fallen onto her brow. "I think it would be a shame if I didn't allow you to keep this state of beauty during our time together. Don't you?"

She remains quiet, trying to ascertain what he knows of her.

"Mm. You shall receive care." He moves his face closer so that his lips brush against hers, "So that every day it will feel like you just entered this cell for the first time...every time I see you."

His motion is cut short as Regina suddenly thrusts her knee up with all the force she possesses. The man falls back with a loud crash, cupping his groin. His pained grunt rings, but unlike other men, his distress is gone immediately. He quickly uses his power to constrain her with her very own chains. They shoot out from the wall, wrapping around her like a boa constrictor and begin to squeeze her slowly. She tries hard to take in oxygen, but the man rises from the ground after but a moment of having fallen, causing the chains to wrap tighter. His eyes are no longer green; they gleam purple with fury. He stares at her with a sneer, brushing the dust from his perfectly tailored suit. Her face scrunches in pain when she finds she can no longer breathe. She tries lowering her head in an attempt to push out her spine so as to regain more area for air to enter her.

"I am the one with the power now. You are not my Queen. Here, YOU BOW DOWN TO ME!" His voice is deep and powerful as it echoes through the shadowed room. "I say what you do and when you do it!" He steps toward her, pointing his finger at her, forcing her to kneel. "The sooner you realize that the easier for you it will become. Do you understand me?"

Regina continues to fight the chains. Amidst the pain, she thinks it would be much simpler if he stopped wasting time and just killed her, but her own body betrays her by fighting for air as her knees hit the cold concrete. He growls at her insubordination and releases the chains from her torso. She sucks in air deeply.

"You are stubborn," he says, grabbing her face roughly so she can look into his eyes. "Do you not understand by now how this works?"

Hatred seeps through her, but she remains still. He stares at her for a few seconds, waiting for her to speak. She opens her mouth and, says, almost in a growl, "Go to Hell."

He pulls her up into a stand and punches her hard in the abdomen, knocking the wind out of her. The chains begin to retract into the wall again and she releases a muffled groan as she falls into his bicep. He laughs, jerking his arm up, pushing her off of him. He grabs her hair in a sloppy, violent sweep and pulls her head up toward his face; her hands are pulled mercilessly to the wall as the chains retract even further.

"Tell me. Who is the ruler now?" His smile widens at the mixed sounds of her pained whimper and the gasps from his current mishandling. She releases them low, yet his ears are attuned to such strained sounds that he revels in it and tugs her hair roughly once again, waiting for her to reply. He moves closer this time, whispering into her ear again, "Tell me, Regina, who reigns over you?"

"_I_ do," she says in defiance.

A low surprised exhale leaves her as he turns her body around unwillingly, using magic to allow her to change the positions of her chains. She faces the wall now and can feel him come up behind her, pushing himself against her once more. His breath is warm on her neck. "You are mine now," he breathes into her hair. Her eyes close in silent desperation. She knows she can't escape his sadistic game without her magic. She _cannot_ fight, she _will not_ plead and now it seems there is nothing that she can barter if he is taking what he wants from her.

She is no stranger to torture. Her former husband, the King, used to simply take her when he saw fit. She was his property, his trophy. His kindness toward her was only a public façade. In the eyes of his people, her mother Cora, and his daughter Snow, he was a just and fair man, but those qualities were brutally ripped away when he was alone with her. He had sympathized with her youth and inexperience at first; had told her that she could have her own room and that her presence was needed for his daughters benefit more than his own and although she had chosen to stay and marry him, believing him to be a man of honor, her fantasies of remaining untouched were short-lived. The King beat her in many of his drunken stupors. His anger at losing his wife was released upon her and she was forced not only to lay with a man she did not love, but to also endure endless nights of being compared to a woman who no longer existed. He was a smart man, never marking her anywhere that was visible by others. All of it only made it easier for Regina to have him killed in his sleep. She had no remorse for his suffering and had even enjoyed his death.

Although she is familiar with it, she still can't control the fear that is tearing its way back into her subconscious, haunting her, and once again reminding her of how truly weak she is without magic of her own. Now, in this dark cellar, it doesn't matter how much she denies it, it is this stranger who controls her. She realizes this as she hears a scream clawing its way out of her throat. She can feel his hand digging into her skin and brutishly pushing past her spine to encircle her heart...and there is nothing she can do to stop it.


	5. Knowledge

Notes: I'm sorry for the long wait. I will try my best to update twice a week. Thank you for your patience and for reading this!

...

The Cellar

...

The sun is setting by the time Emma and Mary Margaret reach the convent. Even with the curse having been broken for months now, the Blue Fairy has chosen to continue with her work as Mother Superior. The nun, who is extremely fond of gardening, spends her evenings tending to her most coveted plants, which happen to be a a little less than half a mile into the forests of the town -just south of the nunnery. Emma is already exhausted in her efforts of trudging on moist, tilled soil when she nears the final walk up to the nursery of Fall flowers. The blonde protests because she had the decency _not _to drive her yellow bug through the fairy's thick mud of a field and now wishes she had done just that. Blue, who is tending to her Aster's just outside of her greenhouse, notices the two women approaching.

"Emma. Snow," she says rising from her spot on the ground near a family of perfectly bloomed Marigold's, "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, Blue. I'm sorry to intrude like this," Snow answers in her most unconvincing tone, "I don't want you to think we only call on you when things are..."

"Actually, we need your help," Emma exhales sharply.

Snow looks embarrassed as her daughter finishes with a sheepish look. "Well, we do!" she exclaims, "Things _are _bad and she's a nun!" Emma points in a loud whisper.

Blue raises a brow, but manages her most humble smile. "Please. It's quite all right. How can I be of service?" she says shifting her site from mother to daughter as she removes her gloves.

"Regina was murdered," Emma says, not bothering to sugar-coat it, "Well, is _probably_ dead...we aren't sure," she sighs, closing her eyes in exhaustion, "God, this is so weird," she mutters. "Oh! I don't mean _God_, God," she defends, raising her open palms. The young woman runs her hands through her hair, tossing her curls in every direction, "I'm sorry. Look, we just really don't know what happened to her," she finishes, guilt spreading across her features.

"Oh, my," Blue breathes, feigning pity.

Snow nods, "Gold says that he made a deal with someone who wanted to harm Regina..."

"A lot of people want to harm Regina," Blue states matter-of-factly.

"That's what I said!" Emma shrieks.

"Emma." Snow stares at her daughter with a 'get to the point' look.

"Right," Emma breathes, "so, long story short: Gold gave some sort of spell book to this random person and he/she conjured up a... thing -whatever- and now Regina is gone and we aren't sure if she is dead."

"Well...it really is a pity that the Queen had such an ill fate, but what do you need from me if she is gone? Surely, the people are safer without the threat of her reign of terror," Blue states, assuredly.

Emma rolls her eyes, annoyance seeping through her expression. "I _understand_ how everyone feels. I can't keep justifying this to everyone. Regina isn't the only evil person here and we all conveniently forget that. I know that she can repent until she turns blue in the face, but don't you teach how forgiveness is the key to living in harmony or some such crap."

"Emma!" Snow snaps. Her daughter shoots her a look that says '_what did I say?_' before she continues, "I'm sorry, Blue. I know that you understand as much as we do how dangerous Regina is, but Emma is right- we have to try to find her. We aren't teaching our children anything- in this case our children's children- if we don't enforce our actions of what it is to be good. We have to save her because it's the right thing to do. Whatever is happening to her right now, if she truly is still alive, it isn't a fate I would wish on my worst enemy."

"Regina _is_ your worst enemy," Emma sighs dramatically, "You know what? This all just..._sucks_." Emma exclaims, gesturing with her hands emphatically.

"Exactly." Snow turns to look at Blue.

"Ok, well..." the Blue Fairy presses on,"...this book... What did Rumplstiltskin say was in it?"

"He suspects this mystery person conjured up one of two beings: The Chemical Savage or The Illusionist. We don't know anything about them or how we can find either, but he gave me this paper," Emma replies, handing Blue the ripped parchment. "He says the book has these symbols on the cover and that if we find the book, we can find Regina, but I'm gonna be honest here, I don't think this person is just going to be walking around Storybrooke in public with a book that has something like _that _on the cover."

Blue looks at the crumpled paper; the symbols are almost satanic in nature. The fairy's eyes glaze over with concern and her forehead crinkles as she shakes her head with what can only be faint sorrow. "I'm sorry to say neither of those beings are good at all," she says with real pity, "I have come across both in my time. They are from the same family you could say."

"Same family?" Both women ask in unison.

"Well, it's not as simple as just roaming around town searching for a murderous suspect. These are magical beings summoned by whoever was foolish enough to read the incantations in this book you speak of. What I can tell you with certainty about these two in particular is that they are the worst form of evil; more so than the Queen could ever have been. The general principle of their existence is to seize the 'victim' -for lack of a better term when speaking about Regina. I can tell you with complete certainty that _if_ Regina was taken by either, she is not dead... or at least she wasn't when she was taken. The entire purpose of both The Chemical Savage and The Illusionist is to torture, physically and mentally, the person on whom the spell was cast."

"How do you know so much about all of this?"

"I have granted many wishes in my time, Emma. I traffic in good deeds. They do so in bad ones. I have had to face both as the Blue Fairy. Some of the people kidnapped by these monstrous creations have actually been _good_ people."

"Wait, I thought that these beings only take those who are evil?" Snow says, confusion sprawling across her fair skin.

"Alas, sometimes it is evil who summons more evil to do their dirty work. These beings do not discriminate, contrary to what Gold may have told you. They only obey the laws of their own existence. They are said to be both god and man in one."

"Wait, how can they be a god _and _human? Isn't it, like, an either/or kind of thing?" Emma asks, puzzled.

"As I've said before, it is a bit more complicated than that when it comes to them. They are considered gods in that they cannot die- blessed with immortality. They are summoned by whoever casts the spell and so they exist only to carry out their duties. They don't _choose_ to do what they do on their own, you could say; they don't care who the person is that was cursed. They grant the wish, inflict whatever horrors they can and when it is all over, they just lie dormant until some other unfortunate soul summons them again."

"And their mortality?" Snow interjects, disturbed.

"I have been told that they take on many mortal qualities. They feel emotions and pain. They suffer, they bleed, they can be hurt, essentially, but they always come back with a purpose. They have a job, you see, and that is to eliminate. I suppose their mechanism of faking mortality is meant to exist more for the victim than the immortal because, ultimately, the victim feels like they have an equal playing field in killing when, in actuality, they don't. It's cruelty in every sense of the word. So, if Regina is there, then I hope that we are not too late."

"So, Regina could be alive then." Emma realizes.

"Yes, she very well may be. But to what extent I do not know. The Chemical Savage, as his name suggests, inflicts physical, irreversible pain on his subjects. They are severely and brutally tortured until they are driven so completely mad that if they are returned to our realm, it's just... a tragedy."

"And The Illusionist?" the pixie-haired brunette asks.

"This being is radically different in technique. As the name suggests, The Illusionist plays on the mind; aiming to break the person from the outside in, so the victims live in a constant fear of the delusions that have been imprinted in their own mind. Not only is the captive broken physically, but the beings purpose is to eradicate the evil by metaphorically stealing the identity of their captive and presenting it back to them, so they have in essence "seen who they truly are"- and that curse is an unbearable one to live with. I can tell you that if this person wanted to inflict true damage on Regina, the Illusionist would be it."

Emma and Snow are stricken in place with a look of revulsion splayed across their faces.

Snow breaks the silence after a moment, "So then, how do we get Regina back?"

"The problem is not getting her back, the problem is getting into these realms. With magic being in such short supply..."

"But there _is_ magic!" Emma shouts, "Isn't that what Gold brought here with all that purple fog?"

"Yes, Emma, honey, but it's not that simple," Snow says, pained, "Magic is here, but this world is so different. We have no way to wield it in order to reach Regina at all."

"What about the fairy dust? Isn't that magical? Can't we use that to save her? We must have _some _left, no?"

Blue smiles at Emma's undeniable likeness to her parents, "Yes, we do. Even after Rumplestiltskin and Regina stole from the mines to keep Cora from passing through the portal, the dwarves managed to dig up some more, thankfully, and we _can_ use the last of it, but there is a price."

"I'm afraid to ask..." Mary Margaret says, almost wincing.

"I happen to have an incantation that can get you into one of these realms..."

"Please say it's the Illusionist," Emma almost begs.

"Unfortunately, it's not the Illusionist."

Emma grits her teeth in annoyance, "Of course not. What's the fun in that?" she spits.

"Emma, please, she is helping us the best she can," Snow pleads.

"I'm not angry with _you_, Mother Superior. I'm sorry. It's just...it's been...it's been a long year," she sighs in defeat.

"I understand, child, do not worry. I was unfortunate in my travels to come across The Chemical Savage. I was forced to enter his realm for a charge of mine and I was able to find this incantation in my journey. It was a very difficult and dangerous thing for _me_ to do, being of magic myself. I'm afraid of what it will be like for either of you once you are there."

"Oh, no, Mary Margaret is not coming. It'll only be me," Emma corrects.

"What? Emma. No, you can't go by yourself! I'm sorry, but I can't stand here and stay absent in this decision. You shouldn't even be doing this at all. You don't know anything about this realm!" her mother almost panics.

"To be fair, Mary Margaret, neither do you. Look, I'm the one who started this hunt for Regina and I intend to finish it. On my own. Please understand."

Snow stares at her daughter wondering when it was in her child's life that she became who she is. She wonders how Emma developed into an independent, strong_, good _woman with all the misfortune she had to endure and no role model to guide her.

She closes her eyes for a brief moment and then looks at her daughter, "We will discuss this later, " she says in a stern tone.

"This is not up for discussion."

"You _must_ know I'm right, Emma. You can't just waltz into another realm. Especially when this is completely out of your element," Mary Margaret finishes.

"Well then, Snow White. Are you ready to go in there and save The Evil Queen by yourself? Or do you think that I'm that moldable that I'll just give this all up in hopes that she is dead and out of your life for good? Hm? This would be the perfect excuse now, wouldn't it? You letting her die. It makes perfect sense. It would be so easy to blame someone else in the end, right?" The disdain in Emma's voice oozes from her tongue before she has a chance to control her massive oral diarrhea.

Snow ignores it, already seeing the pent up anger in her daughter's eyes that has not yet fully dissipated after 28 years of loneliness and abandonment. Still, she is shocked at the sudden shift in attitude and the attack of her morality. "How dare you even say that to me? I am only concerned about the prospect of _you_ getting hurt if you go in there...especially alone! If Regina is not there, you will have wasted magic for nothing and put yourself in danger. How do you even know what you're looking for?"

"At least we are doing _something. _We can confirm if she is alive or if she is there and then we get her back to Henry. If she isn't there then I'm still looking for this incantation to get to the Illusionist. We can't sit back and do nothing, Mary Margaret. You just said how you have to do the right thing and then you allow your aged resentment for Regina to cloud your judgment on what the right thing is. Here, I'll save you from your own emotional battle with this: I am going to find her- whether you like it or not. She was better… for Henry and really, I think you being here is mostly for you and your own conscience. Why am I the only one who sees that? I may not know every single thing Regina had done, but if fairytales are based on _some _truth, then you don't need to teach me to be good by trying to save me from this, you should be trying to save _her _because, right now, she _is_ the victim."

"Emma," Snow interjects with a look of sadness dancing in her eyes, "Even if we do get Regina back, will she even _be_ Regina?"

"Don't you see that it doesn't matter? Henry wants his mother back and I cant just stay here knowing that she is out there. Whether she will come back as Regina or not, that is something we can deal with, but not doing anything at all?" She brings her hand to her face and gives it a quick sweep, "We keep wasting time here. There is always a way. Let's just take it one step at a time. I know we need some magic on reserve, so how can I get in and out of there quickly without expending too much of the magic we have available and where can I find the incantation?"

"Emma. I know you want to help, but please listen to your mother..."

"Just, please...tell me what I need to know!" She screams at Blue, but raises her hands again in apology. "Please. Please just help me- because, in the end, it will be Henry who won't forgive me… and then I will never be able to forgive _you_ for stopping me_," _she says facing Snow.

The Blue Fairy stares at Snow and Emma before breaking the argument between mother and daughter. She steps in-between the two women and looks at Emma seriously, "If Regina isn't there, you have to find The Savage himself to get this incantation. It isn't like you are going to just waltz in there and steal it, Emma. He is the one who possesses this spell. He hides all his coveted treasures in a room that will not be easy to find. You will know it when you see it. It is far different than all of his other habitations. I do not know where it is now, as he may very well have moved it since I last entered his realm. But, Emma, you have to know that he is very dangerous. If he sees you, he won't let you leave, so you must tread lightly and swiftly.

"What if Regina _is_ there? How do I bring her back?"

"That is another thing in itself. If you do find her there, there is no way to bring her back. We have only enough to send you there. You will have to leave her and, once you have mapped out where she is, we can then try to come up with some way to send you in to retrieve her.

"Then why am I going at all if I can't bring her with me?!"

"Because you need the incantation. If she isn't there, then she is somewhere else. And you want to confirm if she is truly alive, no? She will know what magic holds her and that will help us gather our collective inner strength with whatever fairy dust we can muster for you to really bring her back once you do find her; Otherwise, you are just wasting magic, my child. It is very limited now. I am sorry."

Snow turns to Emma with worry in her eyes, "Why would you want to do this? I just..."

"Mother Superior, what happens now?" Emma says interrupting Snow and ignoring her look of desperation.

"Now we prepare the potion and we get you into that realm. You go in, but, Emma, you have only so much time before you have to get out of there. Make it count."

"Lets get started then."


	6. Wicked

NOTES: I will update again very soon.

TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic Violence/Torture/Rape. Please, if you are uncomfortable with any of this, do not read this fic.

Eventual SWAN QUEEN.

...

The Cellar

...

He had grown tired of her quickly. The scream that tore through the cool room hadn't satisfied him, likely because she never struggled against his forced touch; not even when he had unbuttoned her shirt and pushed her against the wall. After gripping her heart, he could not even pressure her into admitting that he held all of the power without having to tear the organ out of her completely. He didn't like how she smirked against the stone wall when he pulled out his hand and how she panted through her small victory. He released her then from her chains and with blind fury at her indifference, grabbed her once again by the hair in a tight iron fist. He dragged her to the middle lit half of the room and pushed her so that she fell into a magical trap that claimed her hands high above her. It is where she now stands, her breathing more steady and meticulous.

"I want you to tell me why you think are here," he spits.

Regina chuckles softly, turning her head back to her captor. "What on earth led you to believe that it matters now?" she almost laughs.

His eyes hone onto her parted lips. "It was only but a moment ago that you asked me who wished this fate of you. You can't expect me to believe that you stopped caring so suddenly, Queen."

"Well," she sighs into her bicep before turning her head back toward the empty wall in front of her, "I am tied to chains in a room, where I have been sleeping on a filthy cot for what I can only imagine is a couple of weeks. What makes you think that after all of this, I still have the notion that I am going to be free to kill whoever put me here? Frankly, whatever your name is, I am tired of these games. Kill me if that is what you are going to do and spare me this torturous bore you consider a plight." Her eyes roll in annoyance as she huffs out a strained breath.

He laughs. It is an uproarious laughter that echoes so abruptly it causes her to flinch in surprise. "We haven't yet begun! Oh, love," he smiles, "you haven't figured it out yet, have you?"

Her eyebrows scrunch. She has never before felt such an eery desolation in a simple endearment. She hears the man step toward her, his shoes crunching the scattered pebbles on the ground. For an extremely short moment, she closes her eyes. The last time Regina felt any true fear, she was in Leopold's suffocating grasp. She knows that no one will come to save her, but what makes her uneasy is not that this man can kill her, but that, in her experience, a person who inflicts pain usually has motive; they do it out of anger... revenge, even. This man has nothing that provokes him. He is simply doing it out of obligation as he was summoned for her, which is far worse. There is no placating to his emotions because he does not have any for her to work with. In short, this game can last for a very long time and that is something she cannot shake.

Her eyes open when she feels him brush past her before he sharply turns into her. She looks down and her eyes widen briefly; enough for him to flash a large smile at her as she looks up to meet his gaze.

"You aren't the one that needs to die," he says, as he grips her shirt, bringing it together again by snaring a few buttons. "It is your soul," he finishes looking deeply into her eyes.

She wonders why he unbuttoned her shirt in the first place. A tactic, she thinks, to frighten her. When he walks away, she releases the breath she hadn't noticed she was holding in.

"My soul," Regina says, clearing her throat.

"Is that a question?"

"No, it's not. Good luck."

He blinks hard once and stares at the back of her head quizzically.

"You don't care." He realizes, amused.

"Everyone wants to save me, dear. You are certainly not the first to try."

The crackle of the whip is heard striking the still air so quickly that she does not have time to register it making contact with her back. Her cry is fleeting before she catches her breath convulsively. The color leaves her face quickly when she turns toward her right arm and realizes blood is trickling down. Although her breathing is labored, she still manages to shake her head in disdain.

"I really liked this shirt," she says through gritted teeth.

She whimpers as another lash stings her back, pushing her forward slightly.

"It really is a shame," he states again in almost a whisper, "you really are very beautiful."

Regina tries to steady her breathing, focusing on the wall in front her. She sneers, baring teeth. "Stop talking so much and kill me already."

"How many lashes do you think you can withstand before you beg me to stop, Your Majesty?"

She braces herself, not bothering to answer him. She imagines her knuckles are white as she grips the chains above her tighter.

"You know, this could end so quickly," he admits, "I request only one statement from you."

"Really?" she replies, trying to steady her footing by feigning interest, but still she manages to sound sarcastic.

"Yes, but you have to mean it when you say it, which is not an easy thing to accomplish. You may never actually live long enough... "

"You must really love the sound of your own voice," she interrupts, visibly annoyed.

He chuckles at her, noticing that her arms are shaking slightly, "What would've been the fun in just telling you that from the start, hm? Then I wouldn't be enjoying this very moment."

She stays quiet, turning so that he can see her disinterest. From the corner of her eye, she watches him take in her body once more. He seems to contemplate stepping toward her, but decides to stay put and crosses his arms in front if his chest. "I want you to admit that you are a murderer. Admit that everyone you have ever inflicted pain upon is innocent."

Regina laughs with as much restraint as she can, but it is still deep and full of contempt.

"Innocent? They are not victims." She can't believe she is even placating this crazed man with this conversation.

"And you suppose _you_ are...?... Innocent?" he asks.

"I don't have to justify anything to you. They deserved it all and I would do it again if I had the..."

The whip comes in before she can finish. The lashes are continuous and by the time it stops, she is unsure of exactly what sounds have escaped her lips. Did she scream or whimper? Her ears hum low and eyes are blurred. The only thing she is aware of is the frantic way her chest rises and falls.

She presses her eyelids together tightly and hears the man shuffling around behind her. She is disoriented and exhausted, but she keeps herself as tall as possible and waits for him to speak again.

Instead, the door opening sounds and moments later it slams shut. She turns back to an empty room. She closes her eyes once more before turning back and slumping forward in complete lassitude. She sighs, relieved.

Her face scrunches, pained as she tries to adjust her footing again. Regina keeps her eyes shut until the hot stinging on her back subsides. She isn't sure of how many minutes pass before she realizes she should actually move. She knows from watching her own victims that if she stays slumped over for too long, her muscles will become rigid and it will be much more difficult for her to move around. _I need to keep up my strength_, she thinks as she attempts to blink a few times to regain her once wavering eyesight.

As she strains to clear her vision, a figure comes into focus in front of her. She gasps loudly when she realizes who is before her.

"H...Henry?"

He stands tall, watching her with a wounded look on his face. His eyes are reflecting the dim light in the room, revealing a thin later of tears that are threatening to fall onto his reddened cheeks.

"Mom," he breathes, stretching his fingers toward her.

"No," she huffs, "What are you doing here?" Her eyes are wide and crazed. "Are you hurt_?_? How long have you been here?_?_?"

Henry stares into her eyes for what seems like forever before stepping away from her. His mouth opens to answer, but he shuts it quickly. His eyebrows are furrowed and he swallows hard before speaking again, "Are you badly hurt?" he asks with an unfamiliar expression.

"Are _you_ hurt?" she parrots, not caring to answer him. Her fear has hit maximum and she is concerned only for his safety. "Henry!" she almost screams when he looks past her into the shadows of the room.

"You promised..." he whispers, his eyes flickering back to hers and then to the darkness once more.

"What?" Her question fades as she watches him clench his fists and step toward her.

"You promised me that you changed! You told me that you were trying to be better, but you lied. I heard what you said. You want to hurt everyone that I love...Again."

"No. No, I..." She turns her head, trying desperately to look behind her for the man in the suit. He is not there. What is the boy looking at? "Henry, are you being held captive?" she asks, trying to keep her thoughts on track.

"You lied to me! You have always lied to me! You will never change."

"I didn't mean it. I was...I...," she looks around again, making sure she is truly alone with her son, "Henry, I need you to focus. Please. Are you being held captive? For how long?" She is so afraid for him that she ignores his incessant need for morality; ignores the fact that he doesn't care any longer that she is beaten and bruised. She only wants him back in the safety of... _Emma? _She realizes this in surprise before he answers her again.

"He brought me here." Distress paints his tone.

She closes her eyes, thinking that perhaps this is only a dream. Had she fainted during the lashings?

She looks up at her son once more. Her face contorts in pain; suffering. She feels sorrow for being who she is, for loving him so much that her enemies use him against her. She knows that what she truly feels is regret, because she is not _just_ Regina anymore, she's **The Evil Queen** and her son will always be in danger.

"The man... the one in the suit," Henry continues, "He said that he had kidnapped you and that if I didn't come see you that he'd kill you. I thought: I couldn't just _let_ you die." He lowers his head, almost sympathetically before coming back to meet her eyes again. This time his expression is dark and his eyes are cold, "But I should have."

Regina feels her heart stop, grief suddenly consuming her. "You don't mean that," she says as her breath hitches. Her eyes fill with tears so quickly that she does not notice the way her hands instinctively pull on the chains above her to grab him.

He turns toward the door then and begins to walk away. She wonders where he will go and what horror awaits him behind that metal door in the world just outside where the man in the suit surely lingers. She can see Henry's anger in cold puffs of dry air, his curled-up fists leading him away from her; her 11 year old son resembling a much more mature version of her. She imagines how she would have reacted had she known what she does now about her own mother. Regina whimpers softly at the fleeting thought of her younger self feeling the same hatred that her son feels for her now.

"Henry, wait! Please." He stops for a moment, not bothering to face her. She sucks in a breath when he shakes his head at her. "Please," she repeats, "I love you. I would never... I.. I'm sorry. You must understand. Look at me. Please!" Her last word comes out as a shriveled wail, suddenly reminding her of the same way the word sounded as it left her when she had begged Charming to let her see Daniel for the last time at the stables; in Storybrooke- a town that now seems so distant. The panic she felt then has now tripled in threat within her.

The room is quiet for a moment before she watches Henry push out a forced breath in anger. He ignores her and continues in his path out of the room, not a word passing his lips in response to his pleading mother.

When the door closes, the shock inside of her is suddenly replaced by an imminent instinct to protect him. The chains above her are violently wracked as she pulls on them, in desperation.

"What have you done to my son!? Henry!" She pulls again. Her cries are heavy now. "Henry!"

Without warning, her body drops laboriously as the chains are smoked away. She lands roughly on the ground. Her adrenaline is pumping and she doesn't waste any time getting up and rushing toward the door. Regina is inches away, raising her arms to pound at the heavy metal, when she is stopped abruptly as chains magic their way back around her wrists and her momentum is cut unexpectedly short. She lands on her back and the only sound that fills the room is the loud cry that escapes her lips.

"This can't be happening," she says to herself, unbelieving of her circumstances as she stares at the ceiling. The lashes on her back are angry. They burn from the sharp concrete underneath her. She stays there for what seems like hours- not moving, not thinking, just breathing. She feels stuck. In an endless cycle of hatred, being hated, torturing and being tortured. Every day, everywhere and every one is constantly after her. And now, on this dirty floor, she feels the pain as it sits square on her chest, stopping her from moving even an inch.

And that's when she hears it. Again.

The clanking of chains skidding past each other in the dark shadows and the sound of feet flapping against the ground loudly. The echo of a chain snapping taut causes her to rise quickly and face the darkness. That something that is in the shadows is taunting her.

"Just come already!" She screams, frustrated. "What do you want?!"

_**Youuuuu, **__it says in a drawn-out whisper__**.**_

She stares into the darkness, confused. "Me?" she reflects, surprised.

That's when the sound of the chains breaking reverberates in the sizable room. She flinches as the padded feet are heard mazing in the darkness. She stands back, but can't pinpoint where they are. Her breath hitches as the sound of someone running resounds. Whatever it is, it's coming for her and all she can do is brace herself in anticipation.

Still, when it finally comes, it hits her violently, knocking her off her feet. She is on her back again in agony. This time she is pinned to the ground and the deep lashes on her back are being scraped against hundreds of microscopic shards of stone, but she cannot focus on her pain as her eyes widen with horror at the creature on top of her.

It is a disfigured monster whose eyes are gray and wild with madness. Its skin is riddled with sores, missing layers of crucial dermis in many areas. It reeks of dead carcass as it nears her face in a swift drop. She turns away from it, panting as her cheek presses against the cold ground. It places its wrinkled hand onto her chest to feel her heart pound under it. The hair on its head is in patches- some brown, some white and even though its body's length is half of hers, its features are not human.

It bares its teeth, pointed, yellow and rotten as it draws nearer to Regina's ear.

**_I want youuu... to killll them allll_**


	7. Convocation

NOTES: Thank you all so much for your reviews. Really. I love to hear what you think and it fuels me to write more!

...

The Cellar

...

The Sheriff paces back and forth in the main hall of the convent. She can see Blue, Snow and David talking to countless other fairytale characters who, to Emma, have no definable features. She doesn't care who they are as long as they conjure enough power to send her to that different realm. They are just another reason to resent being who she is. It was not easy to find out she was the savior, daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Emma was much happier when she thought Henry was just a very imaginative kid and her best friend wasn't actually her mother. All of the pressure that comes with being the daughter of fairytale royalty is plenty to send anyone to years of therapy. She's had enough with her troubled childhood and her time in jail. It was a shock to find out that there were actually crazier things in her life than that.

She looks at her parents, seeing the concern on their faces, but_ her _only concern right now is Regina. So many years of hunting the guilty and now she finds herself after the one person that really can be held culpable for everything that went wrong in her life. Yet, she can't stop the gnawing inside of her. It has far outweighed her own sense of self-righteousness; this feeling that she cannot shake has not _just_ changed her in these last few weeks, it has consumed her. Every negative emotion that she had toward Regina has now somehow been locked away into the back of her mind; because the more pressing issue is that she has to find her. Emma realizes that her role as a savior doesn't purely exist for those who are guiltless; Regina, with all of her faults, has somehow cracked the shell of morality that once was Emma Swan.

She realizes this in a quick frown as she comes back from her thoughts when David approaches.

"So? Any updates?" she asks slumping against the wall with her arms crossed in front of her. David looks at her, knowing that there can be no gesture more obvious to show the barrier that she has built around her since the curse broke. At first she seemed ok with the idea of who she was, but the more that time passed, especially these last few weeks, she has grown more irritable. Emma's face displays so many wounds from the battles within her own mind that David can only watch as she struggles with the new world that has sprung around her.

"Blue and the others are very close to gathering enough magic to send you through," he says with a concerned look. "Emma..." he continues, unsure of how to approach his daughter in a way that won't be overbearing, "...you don't have to do this. I just think that you should..."

She pushes herself off the wall, suddenly. "You know what, David? I think that everyone should stop telling me what they think I should or shouldn't do."

She can feel the anger well up inside of her, but instead puffs air out to calm down and raises her hands to gesture her defeat. "Listen... I'm sorry... really, David..."

"No, it's ok," he says, knowing that her stress level has probably reached its highest point by now and as a father, he can only forgive any action against him or Mary Margaret.

"It's not ok," Emma says, ashamed, "I know I haven't been so easy to deal with lately and that you're worried about me, but I have to do this. I'll be ok, I promise. I've looked out for myself my whole life...and I think I turned out pretty good up to now," she slightly chuckles, unsure.

David's face saddens. "If it weren't for her, Emma, we would all have been together. Your mother and I never wanted this life for you. We only wanted to give you your best shot."

"I know," she assures him.

She waits then, looking at the man that could have been her father. "I saw my nursery in your castle... our castle... when I was stuck in the enchanted forest. I know that you tried to do what was best for me, but the truth is that this is what I've had to live with and..." She sighs, running her fingers through the hair near her scalp, "I believe in Regina."

David doesn't know what to say. He just stands there staring at her, unsure of what the right thing to say actually is.

"Oh..," he breathes, "I didn't know that you had spent that much time with her to have so much... conviction."

It is almost a challenge, Emma thinks. Is David trying to prove that she is seeing something in the mayor that was never there?

Emma stands up straighter. "She deserves a chance, whether I've spent time with her or not."

"But you haven't, have you?" he asks, defensively.

"No, David, I haven't. I saved her life when the wraith went after her because Henry asked me to keep her alive. I never blamed her when I was dragged into the portal. It was just another crappy thing that happened to me, but I saw her face when it happened. She didn't mean for me to get taken away. Her eyes... they had so much guilt in them in those seconds before I fell through. I mean, come on, she ended up zapping herself when we were trying to come back! Henry told us! She sucked up I don't even know how much magic just to take back the barrier that Gold put up at the well. She could have died, but she did it anyway. It doesn't matter _who _she did it for. I owe her this. _We _owe her this."

"Ok," he says in point.

"Ok? That's it?" she asks, surprised, her mouth still half open. She almost feels as if it will drop to the floor like a cartoon characters. Any moment the anvil is going to fall on her. When is the anvil going to fall on her?

"Yes. I'm not going to stop you, Emma. I can't say that I agree a hundred percent with what you are doing, but I do understand why you are doing it. Personally, I think that Regina has caused enough hurt to all of us and I'm not happy about the prospect of her coming back here and potentially causing more harm to any of us, especially you and Henry, but..."

"David, she won't..."

"Well, you don't know that for sure. I just want you to know that it doesn't matter what you do."

She looks at him, perplexed.

"Listen," he continues, "You will always be our daughter and we will always support you no matter what you decide. You want to look for Regina? Fine, we will help you get there. We only want one thing, Emma, and that is for you to be safe. We would obviously like for you to make choices that keep you ultimately protected, but we do understand. I know it was hard for you..."

He takes her hand, then, without a second thought. She seems to drop her guard almost instantaneously when she feels her father pull her into a deep embrace. The savior just stands there, accepting the hug, but not participating in it. She feels like she is a part of him and yet so far from being who her parents are. David speaks then, whispering into her hair, "We don't want to lose you again. We love you. We love you so much that nothing can ever compare."

He waits a moment before pulling back and, looking in her eyes, he goes on, "My mother used to say to me: 'If you asked me to go to the sky and get you a star, I would find a way to climb up there and bring it down to you.' What she meant was that nothing is impossible when you love someone. I can tell you with certainty that there has never been anything impossible for _us_, your family. Look at where we are now. It's proof that we can overcome everything to get to you and if we had to do it a thousand times over, we would." He pulls her back into his embrace, "The sky is yours, Emma. Pick any star."

She stares out in front of her, unsure of what to say. Instead, she squeezes him tighter as tears brim her eyes. "Thank you" is all she manages to mumble before pulling away and wiping her face quickly with the back of her sleeve.

"We need you to stay with us," David smiles, "We need you to take care of us when we are too old to go to the bathroom alone," he jokes, smiling even brighter. They laugh in the moment, both thinking of an older Emma watching over two fairytale characters that are exactly the same age as she is. They realize that there will never be a time where one will be older than the other, yet all the same, they laugh- and the barrier that was there when he first approached her suddenly seems as if it's not as fortified anymore.

Though, their laughter is cut short as Blue and Snow approach them a few seconds later with purposeful looks in their eyes.

"We're ready for you," Mother Superior says.

"Ok. So, how does all of this work?" Emma asks, trying to regain composure from the talk with her father. "Do I jump in a portal or do you, I don't know, wish me into this other realm?" she says motioning with her fingers as if she is throwing a handful of glitter.

"No, actually, we will move to one of the rooms in the nuns quarters. Then you will lay down and we will begin the spell to cast your spirit into the other realm."

"My spirit?"

"Yes, you will not physically leave this world or else you cannot come back. You will search for Regina and once you know if she is there, you have to return straight away."

"Wait, then how will I bring Regina back with me? I mean, we talked about this; I'm not going in there if I can't bring her back. It'll be torture for the both of us."

Snow scrunches her face in disapproval at her daughters' sudden strong passion toward saving the Queen. "Emma, you have to retrieve the incantation if she isn't there."

"Yea, but what if Regina is there? Am I supposed to...what? Just waltz in and say 'what's up? I'm just here to _look _at you and not actually _save _you?'"

"Yes, child, unfortunately you will have to leave her, as we discussed," Mother Superior states, "I know that you are troubled over this, but you have to try and clear your mind. Your purpose in this trip is to find the incantation. We are able to gather enough magic so that you can bring that spell back with you and it's just a piece of paper. Imagine how much energy we need to bring back a person. You will have to go in there and assess what we need. _If_ Regina is there, she can tell you what she knows of her surroundings. It might help us. In the meantime we are gathering all the fairy dust we can for when it is time to really bring Regina home. For now, it's either the incantation or a confirmation that she is there."

"Fine," Emma says, overwhelmed, outnumbered and annoyed, "How do I know when it's time to come back?"

"You won't have a lot of time when you are there. Maybe an hour at the most, but time may work differently there. Take this," Blue says as she pulls a wrist-watch out of her pocket and hands it to Emma, "It's enchanted. You have to keep a close eye on this during your journey. Put it on. It is the only thing that will go with you that mimics the time here."

"Alright," Emma says adjusting the watch. She checks it over once and shakes her head to let Blue know it's set. "Lets do this."

"Emma," Snow interjects, coming closer to her daughter, "I want you to know that I didn't mean..."

"I know," the blonde interrupts, taking Snows hand into her own and squeezing softly.

Snow manages a pained smile before they are ushered into a brightly lit room. The blonde immediately lies down on a cot that is splayed in the middle of the almost cubicle-sized expanse and shimmies her body into a comfortable position.

"Beam me up," she says jokingly.

The room is quiet. "Wow, seriously? No one_?_?" She looks around.

"Emma," Blue says, drawing near, "These beings are dangerous and can trick you into staying in their realm. You must come back to this very room and lay back down on _this_ same bed. Find a way to mark your path and please... be careful."

"I will," she affirms as the smile is wiped clean off of her face and replaced with concern.

"Check your watch. One hour."

Blue says no more to Emma, instead begins reading from a book. The townspeople surround the sheriff, drawing their hands and wands out toward the young woman. She looks over at her parents one last time before turning her head toward the ceiling in anticipation.

Suddenly, she feels herself drifting off, her eyes are heavy and her body goes limp.

Moments later, she shoots up with a gasp. She feels disoriented. She hasn't moved in the last few minutes, but it seems as though she just took a light nap and dreamt that she was falling. _Why isn't it working?_ she thinks, looking around for Mary Margaret and David, but what greets her is not the faces of her parents nor their friends.

She is alone. The room is the same, but the walls are no longer bright with fresh paint. Instead, it is musky and dark. She stands, confused, and looks around. The room smells of rust and there are no crosses hanging anywhere in sight. She knows that she is not in Storybrooke anymore and can feel her heart start to thump quickly against her chest. She manages to find a lamp near the bed and flicks it on. Her eyes survey the room once more with the new-found brightness.

The paint is chipping and dark stains mask the walls. She can see tiny embers falling near her face. At first she ignores them, but quickly realizes they are actually small tendrils of magic dissipating into the walls around her. She coughs hard; the rusty scent fills her lungs as she walks away from the rotted mattress she had been laying on._ It's time to get out of this room_, Emma thinks, but stops suddenly when her sight falls onto the door of the tiny quarters.

"What the hell?" she says, stepping nearer to the closed entrance. Her boots push away cobwebs and dust. The door looks... different. She bends her face near the knob and pokes at it with her index finger. There is something odd that is wrapped around the wood.

"Is that...," her eyes open in horror, "..._skin_?"


	8. Shadows

The creature.

She can hear its labored breath in her right ear; her own had stopped suddenly when it drew near and whispered to her menacingly. The room fills with billows of dust as it puffs out air onto her face, forcing her hair to float up in response. She can hear its jagged teeth clink together in reply to the frenetic way her chest rises and falls, as she presses her cheek further into the cold concrete.

Regina is afraid. She has never been afraid so immensely before. Any fear that she ever experienced had always manifested itself in her suffering for others- her son, her father, her mother, even, but aside from a crucial moment or two with Leopold, she never really feared so _definitively_ as she does right now.

It moves, swiftly, slithering atop her, sniffing her face and neck. She closes her eyes, not knowing what she can do to save herself. If she is going to die, she thinks, it certainly is not going to be on the ground, sullied by the hands of a creature whose master believes her to be a coward. She wants...no, she _needs_ to die with dignity. With Henry captured, she will not just allow herself to be defeated so easily while her son suffers in some abandoned room. It is only the man in the suit who knows where the boy is and she can't just give herself up to fate so that Henry is left to pay the price for her mistakes.

She decides she must do something to preserve her life- only, before Regina attempts a fight in which she knows she will not win, it speaks to her again:

**_Killll them, _**_it coughs, __**DEAD. **_Its saliva lands near her hair, causing the former queen to slide her face as far away from it as possible.

It jumps off of her forcefully, then. Its nails are heard screeching clamorously as it scurries back into the darkness from which it had escaped.

"Shit!" she screams, knowing that never before has she been forced to rely on profanities to express her emotions- but this time it seems naturally appropriate. She pushes herself up, trying desperately to regain footing on the now slick ground. The cuts on her back from the lashes she just received have seeped somewhat and blood now stains her hands as they dig into a pool she has created underneath her in the short time she had laid there. In a few strides, she manages to make it to the far wall that stands closest to her mattress, where the only bulb in the room hangs weakly. She moves under it, wincing when the chains attached to her wrist-cuffs slap together with an unpleasant sound after they are dragged roughly beside her.

**_There's no hiding from me_**_, the creature declares._

The voice comes in from all directions. Regina cannot pinpoint where the thing is in the darkness. She swallows hard, feeling sweat form on her face and her neck tense from the pressure of her wounds.

"Who are you?" she asks, trying to channel the voice that had once boomed over an entire kingdom.

**_Nowhere to run_**_, it whispers in a threat._

She kicks down hard in frustration when her hands do not stop trembling. "I am not afraid of you!" she almost screams, trying to convince herself of the words as they leave her sore throat.

She flinches when a cold breeze hits her skin. She knows that the whip has shredded the entire back of her shirt; the skin protests with every breath she takes. The rest of her silk shirt, unbuttoned sleeves and all, is still clinging to her faithfully.

**_I know what you fear_**

She looks everywhere for it, having no idea where it will come from next. The voice is heard to her left, her right, her back, even, and finally nowhere at all.

"You don't know me. I am not afraid to die," she repeats in affirmation.

_It laughs__**.**_

Regina looks around, tired and frantic. She feels weak and knits her eyebrows as her body momentarily sways. Her shoulders slump against her will and she can feel her eyes becoming heavy.

"_No, no, no,_" the former mayor whispers in a panic when she cannot stop her knees from buckling underneath her. They hit the concrete hard. Her effort to stay alert falters and she can feel herself shutting down as she slowly realizes that she is going into shock. She can sense that the lashes on her back are hot and sticky as she tries, with her last bit of energy, to pull her failing body further away from the darkness and onto her mattress. She manages to reach it with a pained sigh and almost rolls into it.

She is lying on her stomach now, unable to move any further and afraid to anger the cuts on her back as they threaten to pull her into complete obscurity. She can feel her muscles relaxing and her eyes begin to flutter in response.

That's when Regina sees it, as she fights against forced sleep, tiptoeing out by the border where the light fades out near the shadows.

And right before she faints, in her blurred line of sight, her glimmering brown eyes catch it inching out of the darkness like a spider. It walks on its hands and feet. Its legs eerily arch over its shoulders one at a time with each step as it approaches her. She can make out a shadowy outline, its patchy hair and gleaming eyes, but she cannot stop herself from closing her own as the last of her will is stolen from her. And with one final whimper, she succumbs to slumber. The last thing she hears, before her senses are drowned, is the monster's claws on the concrete slinking toward her.

...

...

Regina opens her eyes, unsure at first of where she is, but as the contours of the room become clearer, she remembers. She tries to sit up, grunting as her body protests at the unnecessary movements. She props herself up mercilessly on one arm, but cannot remain there for too long as her muscles give way to soreness. She lets out a rough exhale when her body drops back onto the mattress in exhaustion. Her face scrunches in pain. Her back pressing against the bed reminds her of why she fainted in the first place and she hisses when it begins to burn slightly.

**_Awake_**

The brunette jumps at the voice. Her vision blurs for a moment as she tries to make out the silhouette coming toward her. She sits up with a visible wince.

"You're awake," she hears the man in the suit say as he comes into focus with a smile.

"Yes..." the former mayor replies, sitting in surprise. She looks around the room and into the darkened corners before attempting to straighten her spine.

"I am," she finishes, looking up at him with resolve.

"You are stronger than the rest, you know. By now the others would have begged me to let them go."

She remains quiet, burning her eyes into his emerald.

"Astounding," he says, shaking his head.

"Is there a point to any of this?" She is visibly irritated and enervated.

"Not for me, no," he replies coolly, in earnest.

"You torture me and do not know _why _you do so?" She is almost irate now.

"I never said I didn't know why." His reply is empty, but he smiles nonetheless as he watches her face contort; a slew of emotions crossing her features.

"If there is no point, then why do it?"

"Enough. Those are all the questions I am allowing."

_"If there is no point, then why do it?"_ she asks again, forcefully looking up at him.

He smiles at her, completely and utterly amused before crouching down to her eye level.

"You really are amazing," he says looking over her face as if she is completely alien to him. "You don't beg me to let you go. Yet...your son... he is nothing like you. He cries for his...mommy."

Her face turns to stone and she pounces on him before he continues with his statement, but his defense is quick and he slams his hand onto her back with a heavy laugh. She chokes back a cry as she is halted almost in mid-air. Regina drops to the ground once again, her open palms holding half of her body up from the damp ground.

"If you hurt him..." she growls.

"If I hurt him, you'll what?" he says, checking her.

"I'll kill you."

He is standing again now. "Good luck trying," he mocks.

She wastes no time in lunging at him once more. Regina bares all of her weight onto her right arm and punches him square in his nose. His face snaps back in pain and she smirks when blood trickles down his lip. Her hand hurts, but it was completely worth it to see that, he too, is weak.

The man doesn't even bother hitting her back. She prepares for his counter, but instead his boisterous laughter fills the room. She looks at him, confused.

"Where is my son!?" she demands.

"Do you think that I am just going to hand him over to you because you say so, Queen? No, no. Henry - that is his name, isn't it? - Henry has been very informative." He smiles at her penetrating gaze and bends again to face her. "He knows how to beg for mercy," he finishes in a victorious smirk.

She forces her breath out in horror as he steps away.

"Please," she pleads, closing her eyes.

"And there it is!" he shouts, raising his arms emphatically, "I'm disappointed in you, Regina. I thought you were different."

"He is only a child," she continues, not caring to play his game.

"Let's make a deal," he counters, suddenly. "You have hardly endured any torture and yet, as compared to others, you are not already cowering in fear. It is...interesting, this challenge."

She stares up at him again, waiting for his offer. She doesn't like the idea of being a conquest in a game of torture, but since the man is holding her only son hostage, she humors him.

"If at any point, you beg me to release you, to _kill_ you, dear Queen, then Henry is **mine**. Every moment you refrain from that here, he will continue to be free. He can even go back to that obnoxious blonde that, as we speak, is trying to save you."

"Emma," she breathes, astonished

"Mm. The savior. Your savior, perhaps?" he laughs

She sucks in a breath. Emma needs to protect Henry, she thinks. She _has_ to.

"Deal," she agrees, hastily, knowing that Emma will stop looking for her once Henry is safe in her care. Regina is tired. She is tired of fighting to raise a son who will never love her, in a town that hates her and she just wants it all to stop. _As long as Henry is safe_, she thinks, _I can take his fate and mine, as one, until I die_.

"Ok, then," the man smiles with a victorious clap, "Let's see how long you last before I break you, **Evil Queen**." She flinches at the title as if it were a weapon being used against her. After so many years, it is only now that it truly feels like an insult. He comes close to her face, then, and gently blows some hair away from her cheek.

"It is done," he assures her, as his eyes swirl with purple smoke, "Your son. He remembers nothing of his journey here and no one noticed his absence. He is safe now, Queen. Back in the care of your town. For now."

Regina sighs. "How do I know you speak the truth?" she asks, closing her eyes for a moment.

"You will just have to trust me, I suppose," he grins.

"You expect me to resign my future to torture on _faith_?" She looks up at him again and her head turns quizzically as her eyebrows furrow.

"Is there anything that I can truly show you that you will believe, Regina?" Her name comes out as a familiarity, as if he has known her for quite some time, as if they have been intimate with each other before.

She takes in a deep breath and with a hard push, stands. She powers through the stabbing pain on her back and straightens in assurance. She takes one small stride and is nearly touching his lips with her own. "Show me," she demands, knowing that no matter how ruffled her hair is or how torn her flesh is, she will always exude sex and beauty.

The man lingers for a moment, shifting his eyes from her mouth to her eyes. He huffs out a single chuckle and shakes his head in amazement at her tenacity. "As you wish," he says, waving his hand haplessly in the air toward his right. The wall he points at suddenly shifts and after a blurred fluid motion, it turns into a giant screen.

And there he is. Henry. Reading a comic on a couch, stretching his legs out in front in him.

Regina releases a mild whimper. As a mother, she feels the strain of having lost a child to a deal she did not wish to make. Eleven years and he has no idea where she is, but at least he never saw her in that room, torn and hanging from a ceiling chain confirming that she would be The Evil Queen all over again if given the chance. At least now he still loves her because he does not remember, because he remains believing that she was trying to be good. She looks at her son and can hear him turn the comic page.

_Henry looks up and smiles as Ruby passes by him and tussles his hair playfully._ _"Pizza for dinner?" she asks him. _

_"Sure!"_

_"Hey," she kneels, "I know your mom doesn't normally let you eat that stuff, so let's say we add some greens on the side to even it out, huh?" she smiles_. _Henry winces at just the suggestion of vegetables. "How about _**on**_ the pizza?" he barters._

_"I don't know..."_

_ "Oh, come on, Ruby!"_

_ "Ok, Ok, but you're getting more veggie than pepperoni on that!" she points, laughing, as he nods his head in defeat._

Regina watches the scene play through, questioning whether any of it is actually real. The man is right; this can all be completely fabricated. She looks down and takes in a deep breath, before looking back at her son's innocent face.

_Henry watches Ruby walk away to call in the food and his face scrunches. "Ruby, you think that she's ok?" he asks, breaking the conversation to somber. _

_"Who, Regina?" He nods. "Yea, Henry. Your mom knows how to take care of herself."_

_"I don't think she killed Archie."_

_"What? Hey, no one said…"_

_"I know it's what everyone's thinking, Ruby. I'm not a baby. My mom might have done a lot of bad stuff before, but I know she didn't kill him."_

_"How do you know?" Ruby asks, shifting uncomfortably._

_"Because she was trying to be better and he was helping her. He really was. She said it to me at the welcome home party when Emma and Mary Margaret came back. She told me that no matter what anyone ever says about her, Archie is someone who she respects and considers…a friend," he says hesitantly, as if the word alone is a betrayal to the persona his mother is trying to maintain. "I know my mom," he implores, "And everyone thinks I'm just some stupid kid. She hasn't come to see me in weeks. My mom would never stay away from me. She loves…"_

The wall transforms itself back to its natural state and Regina is left staring at it as if someone has just ripped out her still beating heart.

She actually knows what that feels like now. It's a true description to use for the pain she is feeling.

"Very well," she says turning toward the man as he backs away from her. She believes him. She told Henry all of that in confidence during the welcome home party.

Henry is safe and now she has a choice, she thinks. She can either fight to survive, to escape, or she can die. She doesn't know yet what is best. Henry would do well without her, she knows that, but she needs him. She has always needed him and her heart calls out for him even now when she knows he is protected.

The man smiles and turns away, waving his hand again as he walks out. He conjures her two plates of food and some fresh water.

"You must be hungry," his voice reaches her, "You were out for days," he says, closing the door roughly behind him.

"What?" she asks the now empty room, "Days?"

...

...

**_Stitches stitches stitches stitches stitches_**

She hears its voice repeat the word over and over again.

She doesn't remember when she had fallen asleep. She had stared into the darkness for what seemed like hours. Afraid to call to the creature and afraid it would call to her. She was startled out of her slumber after the second time it attempted to scream out to her.

**_Stitchesssssss_**_ it says, the word lightly echoing in the now cooler room._

She shivers a little as she sits up, pulling her knees into her chest. She wraps her arms around her torso and stares out into the expanse of the cellar. After a long while, her fingers begin to aimlessly caress her back. They swipe only centimeters away from her wounds before she stops suddenly in puzzlement. She feels something. Something foreign. Something jutting from her skin.

Regina pulls gently at it, slowly blowing out air in pain as she feels it slither from her skin. She brings her hand back to her face and sees a thread in her now bloodied fingers.

"Stitches," she says in surprise, looking toward the shadows.

The voice stops.

She huffs out in mild pain and repositions her body. She is too tired to fight it if need be, so she decides that if it comes for her, she will not protect herself. She no longer wishes to fear it and resigning herself to it is a good motivator for letting that emotion dissipate into the empty air, she thinks.

**_Stitches stitches stitches stitches_** _it begins again._ The whispers come from every angle possible, never having any singular steady position in the room.

"Stitches," she repeats and hears it quiet down once more.

"Was this you?" she asks into the air, the stitch still in her hand.

She hears the creature shuffle around in the darkness.

"Does he control you?" she wonders, trying to break the silence, but still it does not answer.

After a moment, she leans her head back onto the wall and closes her eyes. She wants to sleep, but her thoughts keep jumping from Henry to that thing in the shadows. She thinks, now that Henry is safe, she can try to somehow make this all go much faster. Maybe she can convince the suit to kill her without asking for it and in turn never condemn her son to a lifetime of torture. How can she ask for death without actually asking for it?

Her eyes remain closed as the seconds tick by. Her thoughts begin to jumble after what seems like hours.

Her lids flutter open. "My god!" she screams, startling back. The creature is staring at her- only centimeters from her face, crouching near her as if its bones are made only of cartilage. It turns its head 45° at her, sardonically.

She presses her body into the wall despite how much it hurts against the stitches that hold together a few of the deeper wounds. The creature just sits there; its cloudy grey eyes never blinking. She looks away, not wanting to lose her lunch over the grotesque way its skin moves fluidly around its puss-filled boils and burned skin. She can smell the flesh as if it was just burned off only moments ago. She parts her lips, but cannot force herself to breathe the putrid air surrounding it, even though her lungs are begging for oxygen.

**_Stitches, _**_it says,_ _reaching its fingers out and causing her to flinch._ It moves its rotting hand around her midsection and pulls at one of the threads that jut from her back with full force. She stifles a cry, biting down on her lip in agony and shuts her eyes in the moment, before opening them with a loud exhale.

It holds the stitch up to her face. She turns away instinctively, causing it to shriek and run back into the shadows, the sound of its feet flapping against the stone floor resounds.

"What the hell," she whispers, taking in a deep breath. Regina can hear her heart beating hard against her rib cage. She licks her lips, feeling a bit dehydrated. What she wouldn't give for a pain-killer right now... What she wouldn't give to see Henry again in their home on Mifflin St, she thinks closing her eyes.

"Fuck!" she screams when she realizes it's back in her face. She can feel herself frowning for using such crude language to express her distress as she instinctively kicks it away from her and pushes herself up to a weak stand. "Get away from me!" she yells at it. She tried to convince herself that she could just allow it to kill her, but her innate sense of survival is kicking in.

It scowls against the floor in front of her as it begins to wail in a truly horrific tone. Its eyes gleam almost red as it starts to get angry and charges at her, throwing one leg over its respective shoulder to get near her.

She tries desperately to kick it away, but she is not strong enough and it swoops onto her, knocking her to the ground before she has a chance to do any damage.

Regina cries out in desperation as it sits on her; its fingers and toes on her chest.

Then she remembers. Remembers the woman who tended to her wounds while she lay there on the mattress, limp, in agony and drifting in and out of consciousness. The woman had entered the room and shuffled toward her. She carried a kit of some sort and plopped it down near Regina as the former queen stirred on the bedding. The woman cleaned the blood and mended the wounds. She gave Regina water and even hummed her a lullaby. Regina only saw her face once. Her memory is now jagged, but she remembers the woman's face clearly. A kind mute. Her lips sewn together with thick thread. Regina had jumped back when the woman crouched down; attempting to smile passed the broken skin her stitches permitted her. That was the care the man in the suit had provided a Queen; the care he promised Regina she would receive every day after her torture. Her very own tortured-mute caregiver.

**_Stitches!_** The creature screams into her face again as she comes back from her memories. She can't breathe.

"Yes, I remember her!" Regina chokes out.

She hears metal creak, but before she has a chance to even register that the only door in the room is opening, she looks into the creatures open mouth; its yellow jagged teeth come closer to her face as if it means to chew the skin from her very muscles...

...And as she feels the breeze whip through the room, the little monster begins to jump up and down on her chest. She manages a faint cry into the air. Emma's name scratches its way out of her throat as the wind is knocked right out of her.

...

...

"Regina, Regina wake up."

"Hm?"

"Regina, we need to go. Let's go. Get up."

"Five more minutes," she mumbles.

"Hey, hey I need you to wake up."

Regina opens her eyes slowly when she realizes her face is resting on a shoulder, someone else's hair falls around her face. She pushes herself up quickly, then, recognizing the voice. The blonde is attempting to lift her up to a stand from the ground.

"Emma?" she says, knitting her brows, "Why…Why are you here? How? How are you here?" Her voice almost raises an octave.

"Listen, we don't have time to talk. You need to get up, so we can get the hell out of here."

Regina follows direction and stands upright in less than a moment. "Ok, that's good," she hears the Sheriff say.

"How did you get here?" Regina breathes out.

"Spell," the blonde says, putting her arm under the frail brunette. They limp out of the room together in tandem. Regina's arm rests on Emma's neck as they make their way around a tunneled bend. She turns her head to look at the taller, stronger woman, "How did you know I was here?"

"Luck. Also, Henry…"

"Henry? I just saw him. Is he hurt?"

"He's...We can talk about that later," Emma says, panting already as they enter a long hallway. They pass a few doors before coming to a full stop as they see a tiny hall leading to a bathhouse. They smell soap and blood as steam wafts past them quickly. Regina feels the Sheriff snake her arm deeper around her waist, pressing harder against her wounds. She grimaces and lets out a pained groan.

"I'm sorry. Am I holding you too tight?" Emma asks.

"No. Keep going," Regina winces, nudging the blonde to start walking again. The bathhouse looks deadly and the former queen forces the stench of rot out of her nose. They continue down halls that seem to lead nowhere. They pass in front of so many doors; so, so many that Regina feels pity for whoever is locked inside, something she has rarely felt before, but after a few more bends through mazing halls there is one door that makes them stop in their tracks.

This door has a red marking on it, and in passing it, they heard wails coming from the other side. Emma moves closer to the small latch window the door possesses and both women are startled back by the slap of a young woman's hand against the glass. The girl presses her battered face to the window and looks at the two of them in agony.

"Please, help me. Please," she pleads.

Regina feels Emma's grip loosening. She cries out softly as the Sheriff drops her to the ground. She looks up at Emma, confused.

"Emma, we don't have time for this. Do you even know if there is a way out of here? We've been going in circles," she says, exhausted.

Emma ignores her and walks toward the door. She turns the handle and the metal entryway magically opens. The girl almost stammers out. She is badly beaten and reaches out for the two women.

"Get me out of here, please!" the girl cries, her light brown hair caked onto her scalp in clumps. "That man, he has _magic_! He will kill us!"

Before Regina has a chance to fully stand, she sees Emma silently turn into the young woman and punch her hard in the gut. Regina yells out, "Emma! What are you doing?!"

Emma turns, her hand holding a long, thick knife that she plunged into the girl's abdomen. Regina pushes herself back in horror.

"You're not Emma," she says, her eyes widening.


	9. Savage

NOTES: I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed my story. I'm sorry for the delay. This chapter was just so very long that I had to break it up into two chapters, which I am posting at the same time because you all deserve it for waiting!

I just wanted to clear something up before going on with the story: Emma CAN touch things in these realms, even though it's only her spirit in there (remember she was instructed to grab the incantation). Although she can touch things, it doesn't mean she can bring stuff back with her unless Blue and the others have gathered enough magic for it to happen. So, her spirit in these realms looks and feels just like her true self in the real world.

Hope that helps...and oh my, I never thought anyone would like this story so much! Thanks again! My heart warms every time I see a review, fav, follow or kudos. You have no idea. It really does light that flame to make me write MORE AND FASTER when I know my story is getting out there and people are interested in reading what I write.

WARNINGS: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, TORTURE

...

The Cellar: Savage {1.1}

...

The door stands before her, wrapped in a thick hide.

No, she thinks, _skin…human skin_. She can tell by the way it smells and appears, with its ridges and thin hairs protruding toward her- it looks fresh. She stares at it for a moment, completely shaken by the thought of how it got there to begin with. She winces at the likelihood of any person being skinned alive and the poor soul that had to endure such a fate. Emma takes in a deep breath. She knows she has to get out of this room; time is wasting and so, she grabs the hem of her white tank top and, stretching it lightly, pulls it over the jutting doorknob and gives it a rough twist.

The door creaks, opening slowly. The blonde shudders and gives her tank a quick once-over to make sure that it wasn't tarnished by anything... strange. A wave of hot air hits her body almost instantaneously through the open door, making her look down at her wardrobe in desperation; she decides it best to remove the thin brown jacket she has on and, in a swift movement, chucks it toward the bed in the empty nuns quarters. The trajectory of the flying fabric nearly misses the cot all together, but manages to land just over the edge of the bed-sheet. Emma scrunches her face; she used to be so much better at aiming. Besides her stint in the enchanted forest, the town she has called home for the past two years is causing her to be a little less… agile.

The sheriff walks out of the room and as her feet fall on new ground, her jaw drops dramatically. This Chemical Savage is not one for subtly. Before her is a _huge_ open field leading to an even larger castle, dark and abandoned in the nights sky.

How odd, she thinks, stepping out of that door, the door that led her here- that it brought her to an open field and an abandoned castle. It only means one thing to her and that is that it'll be a long journey back when it's time to go home.

She doesn't have time to waste, so she gives her surroundings a quick sweep. Between her and the castle there is a small hill. The field on either side of that hill is an obscure and empty expanse. The grass is all but dead and crunches under her boot as she closes the skin-covered door behind her.

She can tell that the enormous structure of stone over the hill is made up of numerous turrets; each jutting in random, pointy angles, looking jarringly as if they sprouted directly from the dirt in that very nature. From where she stands, she can see the decay and even smell the rot permeating the empty air between her and her destination. She cringes as she begins to walk.

"Damn," Emma whispers, halting almost immediately when she remembers what Mother Superior had said to her in the convent. The fairy had warned her to mark her way back to the same room from which she just emerged, so as not to lose herself in the new realm. Emma shuffles back quickly. It takes only a few steps before she is back in front of the large skin-covered door. The blonde releases a sound skin to an old persons arthritic groan as she bends down and reaches into her boot. A smile crosses her face when she pulls out a knife that she normally keeps tucked in there for safe measure. It's her past experiences that make her more of a pessimist in any situation, so, _Good thing my spirit can still mimic what I had on me in the real world, _she thinks, _Would've sucked if I got here naked_, she smirks as she raises the knife to eye level.

Emma plunges the knife into the door and starts to carve out an 'X', but as soon as her blade hits the tough material, blood begins to ooze from the open tear. "_Ahhh_, gross," she says, cringing as she jabs her knife into it further, in hopes that she can create a sign big enough to recognize. She inches her feet away as the blood trickles toward her. Satisfied with her attempt at something resembling an x-marks-the-spot sign, the sheriff can now start her short journey again over the hill toward the looming castle.

But after taking only a few steps, Emma releases the most annoyed, ostentatious sigh imaginable. From where she is standing, she can see that midway to the castle, the weather seems to inexplicably change.

If Emma Swan hates _anything _in this or any world, it would definitely be **snow**. It's sadly ironic, but she really does detest the stuff. It's cold, wet and she never can escape the impending illness that always knocks her off her ass from just looking at it. The sheriff grumbles like a five-year old as her boots stomp forward on the hard dead blades beneath her; the crunching sounds akin to stepping on a field of potato chips. The air outside is a bit warm, so she knows that the snow will just melt the moment it hits her skin - and nothing about this quest so far is going in her favor.

Emma manages to make it over the small hill in what seems like record time. That is, if people randomly come to this realm just to run over this hill and time themselves, she thinks, shaking her head when she realizes she's babbling- to herself.

Emma peers down at her watch and...

One minute? That can't be right. There's no way that this entire time only one minute has passed. She scrunches her features and taps the glass face of her watch with her fingernail. It almost echoes of impending failure before she's even had a chance to begin.

Forget it, she thinks, picking up her pace. She has to keep going and now that Mother Superior gave her a broken watch, she has to make her trip to this realm all the quicker. She also wants desperately to get to the castle door before she is soaked to the bone. The blonde is mere inches from the border where the change in season is evident when she stops abruptly in a disgruntled huff. In an almost cartoonish way, Emma bends the upper half of her body forward, lifts her hand to a salute- to focus her eyesight- and, after a few seconds, mutters under her breath like a sailor in a cursing contest.

Do you know what Emma Swan can possibly hate more than snow falling on her?

**Ash** falling on her.

What she had initially thought were glistening crystals of water are actually pieces of _ash_, floating down like paper from the black sky.

"I don't have time for this," she exhales and decides to make a b-line for the castle entry- a large wooden door that is rotted all the way through. She knows this because the moment she reaches it, she tries to force the moist wood open by pushing it and actually comes away with a mushy substance of gross all over her fingertips.

"Ugh," Emma protests as she shakes her hands up and down to remove the rotted wood that has deposited in-between underneath her fingernails. "Why can't anything ever be easy with Regina?" she asks into the messy door. She looks up and her eyes almost blur at how tall the moss-covered castle is. She has no choice. In order to get inside she has to go _through_ the door. The blonde takes in a deep breath and holds it before stepping into the oatmeal-textured entry. The wood falls apart in chunks around her, pressing into her hair as she uses her forearms to shield her face.

Emma finally falls through the slime and stumbles forward as she takes in a, much needed, deep breath. Struggling for air, she looks back and cringes at the sticky material on her skin now.

"Shhhhit," she says, shaking her head from side to side like a canine to remove the excess grime as chunks flap onto the ground from her body. Satisfied, she stands erect and turns back toward the door.

"Huh?" she utters, confused, when she sees that the entryway she just muddled through has morphed back to the way it once was- a sealant to any and all outsiders. As Emma steps closer to the mushy door, she realizes that there is a layer of what seems like fluid magic covering the entrance. Her mind jumps to the only thing she can think of-

_It's an alarm_. Whoever this Savage is or wherever he is, now he knows that Emma is in his castle. And now that he has his radar on her, she can't stand around waiting to get attacked, she has to **move**.

The castle opens to a very large, very grand and very dark atrium. It's so big, in fact, that the muffled beats of her heart seem to strum loudly in such an open zone.

Everything around her seems to be made of stone, but it looks as though this space is just a tactic to scare intruders because as Emma looks around, she sees large artistic statues of deformed gargoyles and other such mythical animals staring right at her. She also notices that there is only _one_ direction she can actually travel... And it definitely doesn't look inviting.

The sheriff steps into a long, dim hallway and red lights flood her surroundings; mostly, the lights appear on the border near the ground or scattered above her head. The passageway just loops and curves, but it doesn't run far before splitting into two smaller passageways. She reaches this fork only after what seems like a few short minutes. Before Emma continues, she bows her head and takes in a deep breath to ground herself. All of this sudden solitude is causing her to get a little nervous and the smaller the corridors get, the less able she feels.

To her left the passage begins to brighten, the walls take on decorative wallpaper and chandeliers hang from the ceiling. To her right the corridor is so lifeless it's engulfed in darkness. She squints, trying to see if she can look passed the darkness to discern…_anything_ in that direction. Should she go left or right? She doesn't know what is best, but what she is sure of is that she doesn't have a lot of time to stand there and think about it. She looks at her watch. 2 minutes have passed. Two whole minutes and... _Wait_, she thinks, _two minutes?_ That can't be right. Stupid watch- she ignores it for the moment and decides to go right, feeling as though it is just a natural instinct to go that way. She also knows that there is no way it can be _that_ easy, so she decides that whatever she is retrieving today, be it Regina or the incantation, it's most likely toward the shadows.

She closes her eyes and asks whatever higher being is listening to keep an eye on her and, after a brief moment, she carves an image of an arrow into the wall nearest her. This time, the wall doesn't bleed, but rather screeches as the metal knife slides against it. She manages a good enough chalk-looking arrow pointing in the direction she came from. She won't have much of anything to go by other than these arrows in her escape out of here, so she makes it as visible as possible.

Once finished, she takes in a breath and heads toward the fading darkness. After a few moments and a chilling wave down her spine from the utter silence, Emma runs. In a place like this, in a hallway so dark, there is no point in walking slowly. If anything will come for her, it doesn't matter how careful she is, so she just runs. She swats cobwebs and hears whispers; her eyes can hardly take in anything around her. The passage is so dim that she can only see a few feet ahead. She stops suddenly when the undertones cease. She can hear her own heavy breathing and tries desperately to calm it. She carves another arrow.

A scream comes hurdling through the darkness.

"Emma!"

The blonde shoots forward and yells out to Regina. She doesn't know where she is going, but the smell of rust is getting stronger and she can hardly take in any viable oxygen. After a few more bends, the hallway suddenly opens into a large open floor. Emma halts before going any further. So far she has managed to etch 3 arrows in the mazing corridors and she swore she heard Regina not a few feet from her a moment ago, but now…

The floor is marble. A checkered black and white design paints it, giving it a very odd décor in comparison to everything Emma has seen so far.

Was the Blue Fairy telling her the correct time? There is no way she can get in and out of such a big place in one hour. She looks at her watch and...

"What the hell?" she huffs out loud this time, as she taps at the glass face of her watch again even more forcefully than before; it indicates that her run through that passageway was only 1 minute. "Time," she realizes, "it works differently." And it's not just different, it's erratic. Great. Now she's an even bigger slave to this watch than she initially thought.

She does feel a little relief in knowing that time does appear to be much slower in this realm. She sighs at the thought of how this time change can affect her here as she steps out into a large empty marble vestibule.

Emma quickly realizes that the open floor plan leads, again, only in one direction: up. There are no more hallways and no more doors where she is, only a large staircase leading to a higher floor…maybe multiple floors, she isn't sure.

The sheriff walks quickly, taking two steps at a time to make her ascent faster, and as she reaches the top step, her loud puffs are heard echoing throughout. She grunts when her eyes meet with an enormous metal door. She takes a moment to mark the wall nearest her with her knife.

_Nowhere to go but in_, she thinks, as she approaches the door and turns the latch.

She inches her way into a _pungent_ hallway. Emma covers her mouth in utter repugnance. The hallway is covered from _top to bottom_ in fluids- she can only assume it's human because hanging from the ceiling are numerous intestines- just dangling like macabre chandeliers. The floor she steps onto is a complete **percolating** mess. She can hear her boots squish as she takes careful steps forward. This hallway has many doors and all of them are completely open. She can hear faint screaming and someone's pleading fading lightly into the air around her. She waits, afraid and unsure in such a foreign place, but after a moment, she just sucks in a breath and walks ahead before nearing the first open door. Emma closes her eyes, preparing herself for whatever is awaiting her. _How did I get myself into this mess?_ she thinks, turning to look inside the room.

Nothing.

She sees nothing. It's completely barren. The sheriff looks around confused.

But…she heard wails.

The blonde walks again and room-to-room she goes. All empty. How is she supposed to find Regina when there is nothing to find?

And that's when it hits her. She went the wrong way. The passageway that had the beautiful, clean wallpaper… that's where she was meant to go, she thinks. She bolts out toward the metal door, but before she makes it all the way, she hears a faint whisper. Her name reaches her before she is at the exit leading to the vestibule.

Emma turns around, surprised. She _swears_ she heard her name. She walks back, passing all of the empty rooms that she had already peeked into. She makes it far down the hallway before she is greeted with the only **closed** door in the corridor- the number '969' is scratched onto its frame. It seems oddly familiar to her at first. She isn't sure exactly what it is about it that seems so… known.

Her heart pounds against her chest as she turns the knob to the heavy cherry-wood door. It opens slowly and as she steps in, Emma is met with such pain that her hand jumps up to land on her chest in surprise.

The blonde has somehow stepped into an exact replica of her orphanage- the interim between her foster homes, the place where she was always returned to as an unwanted child by several.

When she steps inside, the house is old and forgotten. The entrance to the house leads into a small foyer. To her left is the TV room where all of the children would gather while dinner was being prepared. She remembers the feeling of isolation and loneliness she experienced while living here. She never was very popular. Then again, she was always so very angry. Who would have been friends with her?

To her right is the entryway to the kitchen. The house was equipped with a large walk-in refrigerator, where there would always be children coming and going. It was the nicest thing about that place; the government paid out that kitchen, trying to make the orphanage look more... inviting. It was such a large building that the students weren't sent to public school, rather they were taught there. It became an unofficial private school of sorts, but for orphans.

It was the older kids that were never adopted, really, and Emma had known the failure of being adopted for a short time several times before heading back to her old room in the orphanage, so she was quite familiar with it at one point. The children were hardly ever allowed outside to play. There were just too many to keep track of. It's why she didn't recognize the door when she first saw it.

Emma looks away from the kitchen entryway and peers straight ahead of her. Before her is a narrow stairwell that leads to a second floor, where the children shared rooms. Next to the stairs is a small hallway that takes one to the back of the kitchen. She used to hide there, she remembers, when the children would gang up on her. No one liked to go through that hallway because there was a door there, underneath the stairway, leading to the basement and all the children were afraid of a story that they would recount to scare the crap out of each other. It was the tale of The Screamer.

The tale was known throughout the orphanage. It was presumed that there was once a young girl who lived in that house when the orphanage was established. She was a loner… constantly adopted and then sent back, much like Emma. No family would ever say why they didn't want her. The children would catch her staring at the basement door day after day… and they made fun of her for it. The poor girl had no one. One day, after begging the Headmistress, she was allowed to go down to the basement. The adult's thought it best to allow her to do something…_anything_... that made her happy. They pitied her. As time went by, the other children would say that they could hear her talking to someone down there. Her voice would echo up the basement stairs and she was heard cackling. When the Headmistress would ask her who was down there with her, the girl would just start screaming. She would scream and scream and scream until they let her back down there. One unfortunate night, the girl went missing. But, all the children that ended up in that orphanage after her would say they could still hear her laughter coming straight up from the basement and if the door was open, they swore that they could hear the girl screaming throughout the house.

Emma winces. Even at a much older age, the story still chills her to the bone. She was the only one brave enough the pass that door every day to hide in the shadows of the sizable kitchen.

She looks up toward the second floor. Her boots are still wet from the fluids she had stepped on and she tracks them throughout the TV room. Her heart is beating fast. The rooms are musty and filled with mocked moonlight. Dust covers every surface, creating a faint dark gray hue everywhere. The wooden house still creaks in protest as she walks knows it's not real; none of this is, but if this memory has been created for her, then maybe whatever the Savage is hiding it's probably in this abandoned house, because if it were up to her, she would never dare step back into it otherwise.

A loud creak shrills through the still air startling her and instead of cowering, Emma remembers what Gold told her to do back in Storybrooke- detect. The blonde walks out of the room and toward the stairs of the old, subdued house. "Hello?" she asks into the air. The loud creaks continue throughout, but they sound much louder from the second floor. She doesn't want to go up there, but what if Regina is there?

Her paces are slow. She takes each step as if she is inspecting every noise it makes to mimic what she had heard down in the TV room. Her breaths come in faster as she makes her way higher up into the house.

The orphanage is actually much bigger than it seems from the outside. It would fool prospective parents, when they would come in. Without fail, every one of them would get lost in the mazing passageways that were filled with children's bedrooms. It must have been hard to keep track of all of those children. Maybe that's why the little girl went missing from that basement. Emma never realized how big the house was from her little corner in the kitchen.

The sheriff comes to a stop when she reaches the top of the stairs. She can't help it when her hand flies up to her face in an attempt to suppress the urge to vomit as a gust of putrefaction hits her right in the nose. She dry heaves once, but gets her body under control quickly and takes in a deep breath through her mouth. She covers the lower portion of her face with her arm; her breath warms the hairs on it as she makes her way, regrettably, deeper into the house.

"Hi."

A voice crashes through the silence, startling Emma. "Shit!" she yells, turning around and stumbling back.

"Hi," the voice repeats, waiting.

Emma stares at a _child_. Her golden locks bounce airily around her face as she rocks on the heels of her feet. She is young, about nine, and she wears a simple white dress with a red-laced sash across her small waist to match her sparkly red shoes. Her eyes gleam as she stares at Emma with a smile.

Emma is stricken. She can't move. She can't speak. She just stands there staring at… herself. This little girl _is_ Emma… or at least was Emma, when she lived there so many years ago. It's so freaky- to look at yourself when you aren't reflecting in a mirror.

"I said **_Hi_** twice already and you haven't said it back. That's pretty rude. And I know rude," younger Emma says nodding her head like she is way older than she looks, "I'm told I can be pretty rude if I want to be. Mostly, I don't want to be, but, you know, some people just piss you off pretty good sometimes and then…rude," the girl says shrugging her shoulders.

"Y…" Emma clears her throat, "Yea. I get that too."

The girl walks toward Emma and the older blonde's first instinct is to take a quick step in the opposite direction and prepare to throw punches, but this is a kid and… is it ok to punch a kid if that kid is you?

"You don't have to be afraid of me… of you. I'm here because this is your nightmare," the little girl says.

"What?"

"This place. It's what your scared of, right? I'm here because you want me here."

"How is this even possible? I don't understand."

The child sighs and rolls her eyes so roughly Emma thinks they will fall out of their sockets. "You know," the kid says looking at her dress, "I don't remember wearing a lot of dresses unless someone was coming to adopt us outta here, so why the get-up? I mean, come on. We hate this stuff."

Emma stays remarkably silent.

"Ok," younger Emma continues, sighing even heavier than the sheriff thought a child possibly can, "So, you came to this realm because you want Regina, but this Savage guy, he took what you're afraid of and made it real," she says pointing haphazardly at everything around them and looking at Emma like she is completely retarded, "In pulling out your nightmares, I came with it. I know only so much, _since I'm a kid_," she says sweeping her hand up and down to confirm that she is, in fact, a child. "The memories I have only exist up until the day we decided we were going to run away from here, but I do know who you're looking for and also a few other things that the Savage has allowed me to know- like _why_ I'm here. In this place, I'm not just an image of your mind. I _exist_ here, Emma. When you leave this place, I get to go back to where I was before you came here. The faster you get out of here, the better it is for me, get it? So, we have to stick together, 'cause I'm not sure how long I've been in this house, but it's freaking creepy like hell and I'm pretty sure both of us are done with this shit-hole."

"Watch your mouth," the sheriff says, as if she is this morally upstanding mother at her still-not-so-old age. But the second the warning leaves her mouth, it just feels ironic. She is telling _herself _to watch her language, when she knows she's had a foul_ library_ of words in her head since she was old enough to talk. "Just… try not to say so many bad words, huh? It stops us from doing anything other than tracking down dirt-bags in the future." She says this as if her younger self is going to somehow get out of there and grow up to be a better person than her one day. The eye-roll that leaves the little image of her is just way too scary to witness and Emma knows immediately that she never wants to have a another child again if it's going to do that to her.

"Ok," Emma says, "so... I'm going to go ahead and call you 'Little-me' because… "

"What? Why?"

"…Because… I just… I don't know why. I don't know. Just because, ok? Do you know where Regina is?"

"No, lady. I just know her name. Why would Savage tell me anything about her? That would make it way too easy for you. _God_, and you're supposed to be the adult."

"Ok, McSassy Pants, I have to ask these things. If this is how it's going to be with you, you can wait here and I'll come back to get you. I can't have snark on this mission. I get enough of that when Regina is around." Emma runs her fingers through her hair and over her face as she cringes when she realizes she actually does sound like an old mom. She can't believe any of this is happening. She just didn't sign up for this. She never _ever_ thought that she would be in another _realm_ talking to a mirror image of **herself **that actually holds better conversation than most people she's encountered in any of her jobs as an adult.

"Who is she anyway?" Little-me asks.

For Emma, everything in this mission has been so outlandish, that she just naturally accepts that this is happening now and gestures to the girl to start walking because, well, they are wasting time. They start to walk down a desolate hallway. It's cold, shadowy, and filled with rooms, but Emma keeps up the conversation because right now she needs to distract herself from the fact that eventually she knows she is going to run into a whole lot more trouble and the time is just ticking away against her.

"She's Henry's mother," she answers the kid, finally.

"Who's Henry?"

"My son… our son?"

"First of all, ew. Second of all, if he is your kid, why's Regina his mom?"

"I put him up for adoption when he was born. I was…I was too young. I just couldn't give him a good life, so I gave him up and Regina is now his mom. That's all there is to it," Emma says furrowing her brows as a flash of regret swims past her eyes.

"Wait. Did I just hear you right? _How could you_?"

"How could I what?"

"How could you give him up? Well, first, how could you have a kid _at all_ after what we've gone through? But, I'm only nine and I've experienced way too much bad stuff to **ever** want to put another kid through that!"

"Hey, quiet down, Little-me. This is not something we are debating. It happened, ok? I had him and now Regina and I kind of share him, so deal with it."

"Can you, like, not call me Little-me? It sounds ridiculous. You can just call me '_Little_'; the '_me_' is implied."

Emma looks at her in awe. She doesn't remember being this smart.

"I'm _nine_, not stupid," Little replies, as if she's read her mind, "How did you find him? Henry."

"Regina…she's…" Emma waits, looking back the way she came to make sure no one has crept behind them and as they pass the first door in the hallway, she peers into one of the children's empty rooms in hopes that someone is actually there to stop this horrible oral timeline of the fuck-ups she's created in her life. "Regina's kind of **The Evil Queen **in the story of **Snow White** and **Prince Charming**," she finishes, embarrassed.

They stay in silence for a moment as Little just stares at her.

"Yea, it's all real, kid. All of it. Every stupid fairytale you can think of by Disney is probably real and we are the daughter of a princess. This is our life now. Our destiny is to run into different realms to save people like Regina because I am the savior of our people and somehow, somewhere along the way, I realized that what we've been told about these stories of how things are _supposed_ to be, like how everyone is perfect and each persons role in the tale is assumed to be fixed...well, nothing's like that. Snow White was cursed into our world for 28 years because Regina hates her face and we suffered growing up with no family because of it, and now that the curse is broken, everyone remembers who they are and I'm the same age as my own mother," she pauses, "I found out my son was adopted by The Evil Queen, but you'd be surprised to know, she really _really_ loves him and she raised him to be this good, morally upstanding individual, which is just crazy because Regina, who was this monster to _everyone_, is not who I got to know in my world. To me, she is just a tough as shit, over-protective mom who, ok, has some really deep psychotic tendencies for a soccer mom, but you come to realize that these titles we give people of **good** and **evil **have so many gray areas in-between that it's hard to just cast someone as completely _rotten_ when they too have had a really messed up life because of how _they_ were raised and it's just an endless cycle of bad people and not-so-bad people that make up the world no matter_ what_ world you live in." And Emma is exhausted. She sighs, "I mean, except obviously for guys like Savage. He was **created** to _be_ evil, so no gray area there, but it's just all much more complicated than it was at your age and that's saying something because from where you're standing, I know it's pretty messed up now."

They continue to walk in silence for a minute.

"Well," Little drawls, "shit."

"Yea… shit."

And suddenly a loud scream comes piercing through the hallways and reaches them in tandem. The walls around them begin to chip and blood seeps through the cracks in the ceiling. Little grabs Emma's hand and the tall blonde looks down at her younger self with pity because how can she protect her when she is trying to protect, well, herself right now. She just needs to get Regina or the incantation and get the hell out of there, but…

More screams claw their way through the walls and Emma starts to move faster down the corridor. She hears stomping now. Loud, thunderous stomping that causes the walls and floors to shake around them. The stomping grows brasher and it seems as though it is coming right for them. It doesn't matter how fast they move or what new hallway they turn into, whatever it is, it's catching up to them and they can't seem to get far enough away. When Emma turns back to look down the dim passageway she's in, she pauses in complete distress.

A shadow is coming around the bend of the second floor as the screams around them are getting louder and louder. She can hear children and adults all just _screeching_ in agony. She lets her fight or flight instinct kick in and grabs Little by the arm and nearly carries her into the nearest room she sees. It is empty and bare, but there is a closet in there and they run into it, squeezing their bodies as close together to fit into it properly so the door can close. Emma can hear their hearts beating wildly as she notices that she didn't even bother to close the actual front door to the room before hiding in the there with the kid. Now, as the stomping racks the drywall around them, there is no turning back. She shuts the closet door as much as possible, but in her position, she can still mildly see through a crack in-between the door and its sill.

That's when Emma sees the shadow grow smaller out in the hallway. A loud puff of air is heard before it is seen. Dust, blood and chipped paint rise from the ground everywhere at once from the force of air it emits. Emma wraps her arm around Little and holds her palm over the girl's mouth to keep her from giving away their hiding spot- and as if she told the girl with her mind alone, both of them stop breathing all together as they wait for whatever is out there to pass them.

Emma can see it now, clawing its way passed the door. Its shadow almost disappears as two large, curled ebony horns come clear into view. This monster is _huge_. Its talons alone are the size of Emma's head and as it crosses them, she can see its dry scaly red skin stretch slowly before it comes to a stop in front of their room. Its snout moves up into the air and it _sniffs_. It seems to be entranced by their scent out in the hall and after only a second, it abruptly _snaps_ its head toward the closet and the only thing Emma can do is close her eyes in **absolute** horror.


	10. Savage 1-2

...

The Cellar: Savage {1.2}

...

Emma can see it now, clawing its way passed the door. Its shadow almost disappears as two large, curled ebony horns come clear into view. This monster is _huge_. Its talons alone are the size of Emma's head and as it crosses them, she can see its dry scaly red skin stretch slowly before it comes to a stop in front of their room. Its snout moves up into the air and it _sniffs_. It seems to be entranced by their scent out in the hall and after only a second, it abruptly _snaps_ its head toward the closet and the only thing Emma can do is close her eyes in **absolute** horror.

Emma chances a look over at Little and she can see the fear in the kids eyes, the same look she would get when she would experience her own version of horror at that age, but the child's fear is so much more **muted** than hers in this moment. It makes her realize that at age nine she just really had nothing to live for to make her truly afraid of anything as horrible as this- as horrible as death. Now, the sheriff can even see her fingers trembling against the girls cheek as the evil monster scrapes its nails against the old wood floors, entering further into the room in which they are hiding.

Its eyes glow a deeper red than its own skin as it continues to use its nose as a guide. It stands on its hind legs, but drops down to the ground on four briefly before rising once more. It inches toward them, slowly creeping forward when another collection of screams penetrate the house. A deep voice comes crashing through the rooms, sounding as if the house is just a mere play-toy for an even larger owner.

"**COME!**" the voice booms and the creature stops suddenly and swiftly turns on the balls of its scaly claws and almost runs out of the room to order.

When the creature is heard scampering down into the next corridor, further away from their room, both girls suck in a deep breath. Emma softly slides the closet door open and steps out into the empty room.

"What the hell was that?" she breathes densely.

"Whatever it is, I don't know what Regina's done to deserve you battling against it," the girl says coolly.

Emma scrunches her face trying hard not to display more than one emotion in this moment. "Regina is Henry's mom. He deserves for me to find her and bring her back. He loves her and when you become a mom, you'll see that you would die for your kid, too."

"Yea, well, he isn't my kid yet and I don't want to die, so I'm sorry that I don't see the point. You know, we can get out of here_. Alive_. And Henry would never know that you didn't keep trying to look for her. You said it yourself, she's The Evil Queen…"

"Not you too. Really?" she looks exasperated.

"Look, this…Savage… he told me something else before he let me go to find you. He said something that kinda made sense and I know how you feel about Regina and Henry and your fairytale life…"

"Kid, it's far from a fairytale," Emma says stepping slowly near the entrance of the room and mustering up the courage to stick her head out far enough to peer out.

"You know what I mean, Emma. I know that your life has completely _sucked_ up 'til now and we have seen stuff and gone through stuff that no one at my age needs to go through. I'm tired, Emma, and I can't even imagine going through what you've told me and you're more than half my age!"

Emma listens to Little intently, but looks out into the murky hallway briefly and lets out a sigh of relief when she sees nothing out there but cobwebs.

"Get to the point, kid, we gotta go."

"Ok, ok. So, Savage is not as scary as you'd think. He looked like a normal guy, Emma, and he said…"

"Was that **thing** we just saw _normal _to you?_?_"

"I actually couldn't see anything. You were covering my **face**, remember? I just heard something out there and yea, it was scary, but this guy…"

"He's not a guy, Little. He's a _magical being_ and he is extremely dangerous. He created my worst nightmare to scare me and a demon with _talons_ just passed by us and ran out of here in _fear _because- and I'm taking a wild guess here- Savage summoned it before it had the chance to eat out our eyeballs."

"Eyeballs?"

Emma looks completely stunned at this kids vigor to finish her preposterous story.

"Just let me tell you what I saw, Emma, please."

"Fine. Hurry up."

"So, he looked like a normal Joe, you know. He brought me to this room. It was full of candy and everything we could ever want and I know what you're thinking, but even if it was just to get me in there, what he _said_ to me makes perfect sense."

Emma, lifts her eyebrows, opens her eyes wide and nods her head with a get-to-the-point gesture.

"He said that if we stayed here with him that he wouldn't hurt us. He said that if we didn't try to escape that he would give us our life back!"

"Lower your voice!" Emma whispers roughly. "Are you insane? You really believe he is just going to have us stay here so he can play _house_ with us?! Come on, kid. You are way smarter than this. I know it 'cause I'm you! _We_ are smarter than this."

"No, listen, please. Imagine. Imagine having a family. Imagine having a _home_- someone to come back to. Even if none of it is real, Emma, it doesn't even matter because, in the end, it will **_feel_** real and you and I can have what we always wanted, what we always _needed_. We will be loved and we will be happy."

"We can never be happy knowing that what we have isn't real, Little!" She is whispering so hard she almost shouts. "It will never feel like the real thing. And what about Henry and Neal and Regina?_?_"

"What about Regina?! We get to have it all, Emma. He can give you Neal and your parents and you can still have Henry and he can make Regina go away."

"Kid, that means we _kill_ Regina."

"No, it means we get to have our life back."

"You aren't getting it, are you? If we don't help Regina, in the real world, in the world we will forget about, she dies and Henry ends up with **_no parents_**_. _Not so long ago you were on my back about giving him up for adoption..."

"He still has your parents! He isn't alone!"

"I would be dooming my own **son** to have a fake eternity here. How does that make sense to you?"

"You are so selfish, Emma!"

"I'm selfish? How can you think that…"

"Wait a minute," the child says, opening her palms in the air, "Do you actually _like_ her? Regina. You like her, don't you? You want to actually be friends with this psycho who owns your son and takes _away_ our happiness."

"Ok, that's it. You see, kid. This is the moment where I tell you how all of this is going to pan out for us. Because you've gone off the deep-end somehow and above everything that you don't seem to understand, the one thing I am completely sure of is that Regina is _not_ a person we can **ever** like. She will always be the reason we were alone, but _we_ aren't the monsters in this story, so…" she sighs emphatically, "You know what, I don't even know why I'm fighting with a kid who is a part of me that is long, _long_ gone. You're gonna stay with me until it's time to jump back through the door that takes us home and until then, you shut your mouth and do as I say, because I need to get back home to my **real** family and find Regina, so we can actually have some happiness that isn't fabricated by a crazy sorcerer! We clear?!"

The child purses her lips, straightening her back as her eyes pierce through Emma's. "Yea," she says, "Crystal."

"Ok, then," Emma replies, mildly surprised, "Let's get out of here."

They head out into the hallway once more. When she gets out of this realm, Emma will be happy to never walk down another hallway again in her life. She can still smell the demon; its acidic scent lingers quite still everywhere around her. Both, her and Little, follow the scent. Emma figures it's the only way to get anything accomplished- she needs to find the source. Maybe Savage will lead her right to Regina. Hopefully.

After quite a few more twisting corridors, they start to hear the loud wails of people again bouncing off the walls near them. The last hallway they enter is dark too, but the rooms they pass are not like the others. Emma covers Little's eyes as she winces in shock at the carnage in rooms that were once children's quarters. Human remains lay _everywhere_, there are torture devices hanging from the ceilings, killing tables straight out of the movie Hostel decorate the rooms and the smell of blood is so strong that she can't hide it from the young girl who travels with her.

The sheriff hears the wails now so loud that when Little speaks, she can hardly make out what the kid is saying.

"Emma, what is that?_?_ Smells horrible," the girl coughs.

"It's nothing. Keep your eyes shut!" she almost shouts.

She can hear him clearly now. The Chemical Savage. As she gets closer to the last room in that house, she knows he is there and that he is not alone.

His boisterous laughter slices through the air almost immediately as Emma nears the last room. She lets Little go and kneels by her. The older blonde looks the child over once, sorrow slips from the sheriff briefly as she sees the same thing in the kids eyes that she saw in all of her own pictures from that age: sadness.

"Listen. I want you to stay here," Emma says, protectively. "This guy is really bad, Little. You have to stay right here, so I can get you when I'm ready, ok?"

"Got it," the kid says, dully.

Emma nods, stands and walks out to the open doorway where The Savage is carving into some poor man's belly. The man, not yet 30, screams; his voice breaking as a flaying knife sloughs off his skin.

"Welcome," Savage says, not bothering to look up. He is not a very large man, but his presence is powerful because she can tell that he carries himself very similar to Gold or Regina. "I see you have found me. My boy didn't have a chance to collect you. You move fast." At that the demon with the large horns steps out of the shadows and a low growl fills the room. Emma swallows in fear.

"I don't want any trouble. I'm just here looking for someone. I'm not sure if she was brought here, but her name is Regina."

"Reginaaa," he drawls, "Hm. I have had an eye on her for quite some time. Longer than you've been alive," he says, finally looking up from his work.

"So, she is here?" Emma can't look at the man on the table. His skin is hanging by a thread and her stomach churns.

"You can have her."

"What?"

"You can have her, but only if you stay in her place."

Emma stays silent. She doesn't know what to say, really. The poor man on the table just mumbles to himself; madness claimed him long ago it seems. The Savage cleans off his knife onto a rag that swings from the ceiling.

"Where is she? I want to see her."

"Tsk. Tsk. Deal first."

"Regina first." She is trying to call his bluff. His entire demeanor screams lies.

_-And that's when everything in the room moves in slow motion-_

One moment she is standing near the entrance of the room trying to barter for Regina and the next Little has run into the room and nearly jumped into the arms of the man flaying a human.

"What are you doing?!" Emma screams, thinking that for sure they are going to die now.

"Emma, I told you! See, he's not so bad!" the girl shrieks, happily.

Emma looks at the skinless man on the table in front of her and then back to Little. Then, suddenly, Savage is waving his hand into the air and the room is transformed into some sort of child's playroom and in the center there is a table with a doll on it like some kid's game of doctor.

"Do you see what I'm seeing?" the girl smiles.

"Kid, that's not a doll. It's a real person he is hurting!"

"You're just not seeing it, Emma. Everything here is so perfect. We have games and candy and everything we could want!"

Emma can feel her heart trying to punch its way out of her chest. "It's fake, Little! It's all fake! For God's sake his name is Savage! You _know_ what that means!"

"No!" the girl screams, "You just don't want to be happy. You don't want us to get our happy ending!"

Emma shakes her head in disbelief. "This isn't happening."

Before Emma realizes what is going on, the demon-pet comes charging out of the shadows and smacks hard into her, throwing her clear across the room.

"You see, Emma! He's trying to play with you!"

She doesn't know what the girl is seeing. The fabric of reality is glitching for Emma and she can see the room going from playroom to torture chamber. Her vision blurs and she tries to get up, but the demon comes at her once more and the room starts to melt around her. She hears Little talking to Savage with a smile, "What if I say yes to staying? Does that mean I can say yes for Emma too, since I _am_ her?"

No, no, no.

The polished man laughs and tussles the young girls hair. "Of course," his voice comes in deep.

Emma shakes the dizziness away from her mind and, after a second of absolute terror, decides to do what she does best- she runs. Her sprint out of that room is so fast that no one sees it happening until she is clear into the hallway.

"**BRING HER TO ME!**" Savage yells and then the house rumbles from heavy stomps.

The demon is after her.

She hasn't found Regina. She doesn't know where the incantation is and now she is being chased by a **demon**. Her voice is hoarse and her breaths come in sharp as she runs faster. Emma panics as the hallways start to blend together and she digs deep into her mind for a way out.

She needs to get downstairs. She needs to get to that front door.

The paint on the walls chip further as the house moves like it is crumbling down around her. She can feel the demon's hot, putrid breathe puff her hair into the air. It's not even that close to her, yet it has that much power. She can feel her calves hurting and her skin burning from the energy she is exerting.

Emma finally sees the stairs to the first floor just beyond her reach. They aren't too far and she almost trips when she looks back into the darkened hallway. Red gleaming eyes almost sparkle passed pointed canines. She nearly leaps down the steps and reaches the front door with a huff of exhaustion. The blonde pulls the knob hard, but **nothing happens**.

The door. It's stuck. Glued to its frame. She pulls harder, but it doesn't budge at all.

"Fuck!" she screams into the wood, "Open!"

It doesn't. She looks up to the stairs and she can see it coming. Its horns and tusks come clear into view at the top of the steps and it sounds like a bull ready to charge. Emma can't stay where she is. She doesn't want to die.

She cuts to her right and runs toward the kitchen. She needs to hide and reaches the fridge in a matter of seconds. She figures a demon from the fires of hell won't want to go in there, but when she pulls the refrigerator door open, packaged human limbs fall out near her feet. She realizes now that hiding in a fridge was a bad idea. What inspired her to think that a demon won't like the cold? Stupid.

She bolts through the back of the kitchen and into the small hallway near the stairs. She doesn't know where the demon is. She can't hear it anymore.

"Shit, shit, shit," she whispers into her hand as it sweeps her face. She is standing on the side of the steps; the door to the basement is only a foot away from her.

"Oh!" she cries when the demon's talons knock her into the hollow wall of the steps. She falls to the ground roughly and kicks hard, pushing it back. It growls again and comes at her, but she ducks and moves aside as it charges her. Emma stands and grabs the handle to the door of the basement and flings it open in one quick movement. She steps inside, shuts the door behind her roughly and locks it.

The sheriff releases a puff of air as a wave of relief immediately shoots through her.

"Shit!" she screams when the creature starts baring all of its weight onto the door in an attempt to bring it down. Emma leans heavily on her right shoulder, trying to hold the wooden door in place with her own weight. She doesn't even know where she is finding the strength to hold back a demon from killing her.

After a few hard blows, the blonde feels it stop and hears it scratch at the door. After a while, it starts to sound like a dog, pushing softly at the wood and sniffing under the door for Emma. The blonde slumps against the door after what seems like an eternity. Emma lets her body drop, then, and it slides down onto the ground gently. She gasps, trying to catch her breath and calm her racing heart. She stays like that for a moment before checking her watch.

10 minutes left. She has ten minutes before she has to get back to that skin-covered door and she is stuck in this basement.

"Hey."

"Holy fuck!" Emma screams, as a child comes into view at the bottom of the basement stairs.

The girl, she looks young, has brown hair and caramel eyes -maybe Little's age- and her clothing looks old, straight out of the 1920's or 30's. She has small buckle shoes and her hair is in a ribbon, but her face is almost hollow as she stares at Emma with furrowed eyebrows.

"You need to come down from there. It will keep trying to get in if it can still smell you," she says.

Emma doesn't trust her. She stays put for a moment.

"You will die if you stay here. You have to keep moving," she continues.

"All of you fucking kids need to leave me alone!" Emma screams and the demon charges at the door again. She grunts as she pushes back weakly.

"Please, you must come down here. When it can't smell you, it stops looking for you. It is really brutishly stupid."

Emma stands, then. Tired and afraid, but she has no other choice and she steps away from the door. The demon's talons scrape the wood once more, but after a moment of sniffing, it just…walks away.

"I told you."

Emma walks down the steps as the child backs away into the dark basement. From afar she looks healthy, but from up close…

Her eyes have bags, her skin is almost blue, her hair is stringy and her throat has a clean cut across it, as if someone just sliced her from ear to ear. When she talks, her wound opens slightly and blood seeps out.

Emma cringes and keeps her distance.

"Who are you?" the sheriff asks, looking from the girl to the door up top that has stopped rattling.

"I'm... The Screamer."

Emma feels her stomach drop. "No," she says aghast, "you're just a tale in my mind. He is using you to frighten me."

"I wish I was only a children's tale meant to scare you, Emma."

The older blonde stays silent and still, as if the dead child will disappear if she doesn't move. After a minute of just being stared at, Emma gives in, "If you're real, how did you get here?" she asks, watching as the girl circles her.

"He lured me down here- with promises of family and friendship. He played with me until he killed me. Buried me in the cement and brought my soul here. I keep the monsters away from the exit. I keep them from escaping to places like your world."

Emma blinks hard, taking it all in. "He keeps you in this house? But this is from _my_ past, not others."

"Everyone has something that makes them afraid, Emma. To you it's this orphanage and to another person it's their own version of hell, but no matter the place I'm always here because I was the first."

"The first?"

"The first child. He's maimed and killed many, but I was the first child," she pauses, looking up at the door. "He can't catch me," she whispers, looking back at Emma, "It's how I can survive deep down in the psyche of those who enter here. You're just the first one to make it in this far."

"I..." the blonde hesitates, completely shaken, "I got nothing. This is all beyond what I can handle. I can't do this."

"You can. I have been inside of your mind now for quite some time and you are stronger than you think. You must keep going. You don't have a lot of time left," she says pointing at Emma's watch.

The sheriff looks down at it, then to the child again, "Is Regina here?"

"No, I'm afraid not. But I know what you seek. The incantation. When you first entered this realm you had a choice. You came to a fork in the road and you could have gone left into passageways of beauty or right into the darkness and you chose the darkness, but on the side you ignored is the incantation you seek. The room you are looking for has a symbol on it. It looks like a heart with three swords in it. That's where you will find it. Go there now and get out of this realm. Don't look back."

"How am I supposed to get out if I'm stuck in this basement?"

"As I said, I guard the exits. You can get to that room from here. Just follow the tunnel I made for you," she says pointing behind her and suddenly the wall bursts open into a tunnel.

Emma's mind hasn't caught up yet. "I'm sorry," she whispers, "that this is your fate."

"You must go," the child says again, looking up the basement stairs, "I can't keep the door shut much longer from **him**. He is the only one strong enough to get through."

Emma hears a loud **boom** and they both look toward the door in fear.

"I can't leave you with him. He's…"

"You must. I have resigned myself to my eternity, Emma. This is what I'm meant to do. I wish I could go, but I can't allow **evil** to escape with you or with anyone. If they do, any horrors you thought couldn't exist in your reality will become real. It isn't a world you would want your son or loved ones living in. You _must_ go. Now Emma."

The house rumbles.

"Now!"

The door above them shakes violently as a white light peeks through the cracks. It looks like it will explode. Emma chances a look at the girl. She wants to thank her, but she can't think of anything that will make all of this better for either of them, so she runs…so fast and so hard that she doesn't even look back. The tunnel closes behind her as she moves deeper in she can hear the screams and the padding of feet and the laughter of the little girl mocking the Savage- because he can't catch her, but he can catch Emma. So she runs.

…..

Emma never looks back.

She heard The Screamer, a child, screaming, and then heard her laughing as she hid from The Chemical Savage in the basement. All that time, the tale she had always known… there was never a haunting in her orphanage; just that poor girl, keeping the evil at bay.

Her screams were warnings, letting people know that bad things could creep out of her realm when the door was open and laughing when she locked them back in with her; hiding from the madness.

Emma can't even process what just happened. Are all stories like this? Are they all just truths that have evolved into fabrications of fear?

Before she realizes it, she has run far from one side of the castle and closer to her exit. The sheriff nears the end of her tunnel as light pours in. After a few more paces, she emerges from it and steps through a veiled hidden entryway. Emma steps out of the wall in a stumble; the same wall she had marked her final arrow onto before hitting the fork in the corridors. She looks over at the left side of the fork, where the wallpapers are bright and chandeliers are lit and she doesn't stop to take a breath. She moves, because that's what she is supposed to do here. She passes beautiful figurines on tall marble stands and gem-covered mirrors. The doors she passes all lead to brightly lit bedchambers that hue gold. Emma walks quickly, looking for the door with the heart and three swords and as her body begins to falter and her strength wavers, she stumbles upon it right as she is ready to give up.

The door with the symbol is trimmed in gold and shimmering diamonds accent the sill. The sheriff doesn't waste a beat and pushes it open with brute force. Gold is heavy. Very heavy.

Once inside, the lights in the room automatically flicker on and Emma has to shield her eyes from new-found brightness. She focuses her sight and...

"You've gotta be kidding me," she says, as her eyes graze the room from top to bottom.

"A library. A freaking library!" Emma shouts, "Why me? Huh? Do I just have a target on my back that says 'save by decoding riddles'?" Emma yells into the room, "_'You must find the habitation that is different from all the rest, Emma. It's very important that you find it, Emma_'," she mocks Mother Superior's voice. "She could have just said 'library'!" she almost screams, looking around the large room because now she stopped caring who is after her. She cannot believe that Mother Superior didn't just _tell_ her to look out for a giant room **_with books in it_** before she went into this realm. And it isn't a normal library she is looking at, either. It is a _storage_ of books upon books ranging almost two stories high. She stands there, not knowing where she will start. How can she find an incantation...a paper... in a room_ full _of paper!

She closes her eyes, trying to ground herself again, because by now she has learned that she needs to ground herself; she needs to, because too many crazy things have happened and if she doesn't come back from all that insanity, she won't survive any of it with her mind intact. After a moment, Emma looks at her watch.

"Shit," she says, stomping hard. She only has 4 minutes now. Even if it is four very long minutes in that realm, how is she going to find what she came here for?

**CLANK!**

Emma flinches.

She's not alone.

The blonde moves swiftly, shrinking her body into the room behind as many books as she can. She doesn't need to see it or hear it or smell it… she can _feel_ it in there with her.

The demon, with its curled ebony horns and red scaly skin, releases a low and deep snarl. She can see its shadow shrinking and then growing against the stacks of books with every step it takes.

Emma swallow and looks for something to protect herself with, something sharp, something… _like gold_, she thinks, as she picks up a long candlestick holder and feels the weight of it in her hand. It's going to have to do, she thinks, as a makeshift weapon. She starts to sneak slowly around books so high that no one would be able to find her if she decided to stay hidden. She ducks down when the shadow swoops past her, but doesn't stop looking for that incantation. She starts reading off titles in her mind of the books she passes. Nothing sounds like it would have an incantation in it. All of the titles she passes are not anything that scream _magic_ to her. With all of these novels around her, she sees one common theme and that is the fact that all of them deal with destruction of civilization, racism, dystopian futures… all dark genres.

"Crap," Emma whispers when she reaches a spot in the room where there are so many books just splayed _everywhere_ on the ground that to pass it, she will definitely ring a "come eat me" bell for this demon. She bends over to physically move books out of the way, so her boots don't rip the pages under her soles, when she feels a strong force **smack** against her, tumbling her over and drawing the wind from her painfully.

The demon screams, making this unholy and unnerving sound that only means he is calling to his **master**. Emma shuffles on the ground against the books and she feels the red creature stomp hard near her face as she flinches back. It crouches down, opening its mouth, so a tongue of serpents can come slithering out toward her, but the street-kid in her doesn't let that thing come even an inch from her face, before she is slamming the heavy gold makeshift weapon onto its snout, causing it to shake its head from side to side in surprise.

Emma jolts up while she can and stumbles over stacks and stacks of books. She can hear the demon regain its footing, coming after her. She starts to push the tall piles of books down behind her in hopes that she can slow it down a bit. It's so large, though, that it swats at the stacks that fall and books go flying in every direction in response.

It is gaining on her and as she looks back to check its distance, she trips and reaches out for something to stop her from hitting the ground. Emma's hands fall onto more books and she pushes herself off of them, but as she regains her footing, she notices one book in particular, hiding under an array of contemporary literature. She reaches down quickly and snatches it from the ground before bringing it to her face in disbelief.

She furrows her eyebrows... **at a Bible**. It's black leather binding squeaks as she tightens her grip on it.

Emma releases a sound of such utter joy that she hardly realizes she has stopped moving and the demon is but a few feet from her. She smiles wide and ducks instinctively as talons sweep above her head violently.

In all of these book, the one thing that is completely out of place in a realm like this is a bible, she thinks, as the demon lunges at her one more time. Emma is moving on pure adrenaline now and, with a clear view of the door in front of her, she jets out as the creature slices the air behind her. She can't even stop when she runs into the hallway; her momentum is so strong that she smacks into the wall across the door before continuing her sprint down the way she came. She reaches the fork in the corridors and sees the arrow she etched into the wall.

All she has to do is follow those arrows and she's home free, but as she runs into roundabouts, twists and turns, she can hear not only the stomping of a demon, but the voice of its master behind it.

Emma's heart comes up into her throat as she exits the last corridor and enters the large castle atrium. She can see the mushy rotten wooden door just ahead of her and like a football player, she picks up her speed and rams through it with her shoulder out.

Emma makes it through the door with more messy rot stuck to her hair than when she got here, but most of it sloughs off of her from the speed she has acquired. She looks back...

And there he is. The Chemical Savage is chasing her and she knows its him because his eyes are still the same dark brown with green speckles that spoke to her from that torture chamber. He looks much different now as he pounds his feet into the ground lifting up dirt in his wake. His pristine, well-manicured look is gone and his body has transformed into a massive cesspool of body remains and skin all meshed up on top of layers of pure muscle. She can see horns protruding from his scalp as he comes up close behind her and his shoulders have morphed into pointy bones facing skyward.

Emma reaches the small hill in the open field outside of the castle and glances at her watch- 45 seconds before the portal opens and she is free, but as she makes it over the hill, The Chemical Savage **grabs** her ankle and topples her over roughly. The book tumbles away from her and she lets out a cry in panic. The Savage,_ a new-found_ _beast_, jumps into the air suddenly and lands with his feet on either side of Emma, making the ground rumble in response. The sky begins to thunder and droplets of rain mix with the ash from the other side of the hill. Both Emma and the beast breathe heavily as they are covered in wet soot.

"I NEVER SAID YOU WERE ALLOWED TO LEAVE, INTRUDER," he roars, drawing near her face. His lower jaw grew tusks of their own and they graze Emma's cheek as he breathes onto her.

She panics and looks over to her arm that lies near her chest, her watch ticks by slowly. Each second physically hurts her and she tries to push him off.

He laughs. "I HAVE PLANS FOR YOU. YOU'RE IMAGE IS PLAYING IN A ROOM OF DEAD LIMBS AS WE SPEAK."

**Little**. The poor, naïve, stupid girl.

"YOU CAN'T EVEN IMAGINE WHAT I HAVE IN STORE FOR YOU," he says deeply, as he throws his head back in victory.

Emma presses her eyelids together hard. She is lost… so lost. She won't ever see Henry again or be able to go through her rebellious teenage years all over again with Mary Margaret or find Regina….

And as the beast atop her fills the cool air with his triumphant laughter, Emma remembers something. She looks up at him and cringes with disgust at the way his body moves with the chunks of his victims.

"Hey, Asshole!" she screams and he snaps his head down to her so quickly _she_ gets whiplash. "You know what I think is funny?" she asks, bending her upper body in an odd angle on the ground under him.

Savage hones his sight onto hers, coming down close to her face.

"You get inside of peoples' heads and create entire worlds based on their memories, yet this entire time you couldn't remember that I have a knife in my boot!" she screams as she jabs him in the side of his temple until the handle of the knife is firmly against his skin.

He wails with the voices of a thousand people and as he reaches up to pull the knife out, Emma manages to stand up again. She snatches the bible off the ground and runs toward the skin-covered door that contains her portal home.

She reaches it in less than a moment and as she turns around to shut it, she can see the beast and his demon coming for her. She locks the door and steps back, before lying down on the small cot in the nuns quarters.

Emma lifts her arm up and looks at her watch. **Two seconds**. They will be the longest seconds of her entire life, she thinks, as she raises her torso up when the door racks violently in front of her. The demon is clawing at it and Savage is using his victim's body parts as a sledgehammer. She can see the door bounce lightly from its hinges and her breath hitches as the hits become stronger and more violent.

She drops down to the pillow again and looks at her watch. The dial hits **one second**.

The demon has cracked the door now. Its talon is desperately scratching at the magic entry. Emma shuts her eyes; she presses her eyelids together as hard as she can and wills herself to sleep, but the loud beating and the way the walls around her quake cause her to lose focus.

"Come on!" she screams into the air, willing the portal to manifest itself, but nothing happens.

The demon crashes through the locked door. She can hear it move aside as The Chemical Savage enters the room boldly.

Emma keeps her eyes shut and presses the bible hard against her chest. She tries again to will herself home.

He appears near her in a flash.

She can smell the blood on his hand as reaches out and…

Why can't she go home?

She just wants to go home.


End file.
